


Ghost's Fury

by Kineil_D_Wicks



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014), Big Hero 6: The Series (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Felony Carl is also the best character after Obake fite me, Felony Carl is the team mom, Gen, Obake is not a people person, This idea hit me and wouldn't leave me alone, crossposted on ffn, fusion fic, kinda both, others are not, seriously, some characters are now dragons, there's like two sequels because the idea smacked me so hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:20:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 90,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23338264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kineil_D_Wicks/pseuds/Kineil_D_Wicks
Summary: It is a dark night indeed when the youngest Night Fury in the nest is shot down by the Ghost of Ghosts.  The older Night Fury has but one option: rescue his little brother no matter the cost.Because the ghost who shot him down has other plans….
Comments: 25
Kudos: 38





	1. This Is Yokai

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and welcome to this crossover! I’ve had it in the works for a while and couldn’t resist anymore. ^^;  
> So without further ado, let’s get started….
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney  
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks

_They hadn’t always fought dragons—once upon a time, things were different._

_But times change, especially under the weight of fear and anger._

_“You can’t do this!”_

_“I daresay I can.”_

_“What you’re proposing is suicide! We can’t fight those dragons—we can’t even find their nest! We don’t know where they come from to even stop them!”_

_“We can and we will! I am through with losing people to those monsters!”_

_“I know you miss your daughter, but you can’t doom the village. We won’t stand with you if you do.”_

_“No, you won’t—I know I have enough people to back me; you’ve lost your position, Granville.”_

_She fell back a step, teeth gritted, looking at the crowd—a crowd that was slowly splitting into two groups, one backing her, one backing Callaghan._

_And the crowd backing Callaghan was much bigger._

_“You have five minutes,” Callaghan spat. “To get you and yours off of this island.”_

_Granville scanned the crowd, the crowd looking bristling and angry…nodded finally, resigned. “Very well. I pity those whom you are leading to their doom.”_

_“You can extend your pity from elsewhere.”_

_He watched, still bandaged, still broken, still bruised—watched people he knew scrambling—his chest was thrumming with tension, rattling his broken ribs—_

_He had not been looking forward to them coming to him. Had not been looking forward to her pleading, to Granville coming in behind, the way her expression shifted when she saw his—_

_“We have to go—come on, you can’t stay here. You’re coming with us, right?”_

_He could—he could have. But Callaghan had promised him—had promised him no limits. Granville would insist on those limits._

_And after the last attack, he’d be lying if he didn’t say he wanted a little revenge._

_“I can’t,” he said finally, hating the heartbreak on their faces, hating the way she hugged him, ginger yet desperate, not wanting to leave her friend…._

_Hating Granville putting her hand on his shoulder and looking him in his good eye._

_“Find us,” she told him. “When you can, come find us.”_

_And then they were gone._

That had been twenty years ago, now, and Obake was still questioning whether or not that had been the wise decision.

Mostly, he questioned this whenever he felt like his skills were being underappreciated—such as now.

“They’re over this way!”

“They’re attacking the stores!”

“My house is on fire!”

All of which was to be expected, when one lived where dragons were an occupational hazard.

Dodge around the fighters running to deal with the burning houses, grab a pole, use it to vault over the carts blocking the way, grab one of his devices as he ran by and shoot it up at the shape flying overhead—a Gronkle hit the ground heavily a few moments later. Trip one of his traps—a Nadder behind him suddenly lost its footing. Roll away from a Monstrous Nightmare’s fire—it set the trigger on fire that dropped a steel net on itself.

And did he get the recognition he deserved? That would be a no, thank you.

Well, sure, quite a few of the people still living in Yokai appreciated him, or at least his work—not so much himself, he reflected, dodging around a couple of people fighting off a Zippleback; he, as always, had a tendency to rub people the wrong way. It wasn’t his fault he was brilliant, but he was certain _they_ didn’t see it that way.

One thing no one could deny, though: there was only one other person in the whole village that had taken down more dragons, and that was their leader, Callaghan. Robert Callaghan had been like a man possessed after his daughter was taken, destroyed anything that stood in his way with a singlemindedness that kept everyone in place, even when they attacked settlements instead of dragons.

It was why Obake was currently finding himself with the limits that he had been promised would not exist. Because Callaghan would not let anyone stand equal with him, would pat Obake on the head like he was still a teen and send him on his way. He had hit the ceiling of his advancement ten years ago—ten years ago, it had become clear to him that his only value to anyone was as a dragon slayer.

Ten years ago, he began to deeply regret staying.

But there was nothing for it—the others that had followed Granville were long gone, possibly long dead, and no one would touch anyone from Yokai; they had garnered too fearsome a reputation.

No one would touch anyone who was cursed, either.

Now _that_ was pure idiocy in and of itself—he didn’t believe it for a minute, that in being attacked by a dragon, he had been marked by one as well. Curses were for superstitious idiots.

Unfortunately, he didn’t really have another explanation for the left side of his face, which had the habit of glowing in a ghastly color and pattern when he was agitated. Trying to control it was why he had gotten a reputation for being cold and aloof. Which, to be fair, meant he had some peace and quiet—

“Head’s up!”

Duck down, knives zinging straight through the spot where his head had been, burying themselves in a Nadder’s head—scowl in the direction the knives had come—

Momakase blew by.

“Try to stay awake, hon!” she called back, yanking her knives free and giving him a smug smirk.

“Maybe if tonight were actually _challenging_ ,” he shot back, keeping tone and voice precise. “I could have _slept_ through this.”

“Go ahead—more for me—”

They both cut off at the high whistling noise—the explosion—the sight of one of the towers collapsing on itself in a bright white light—

_“Night Fury!”_

“Ah, _excellent,”_ he hissed, savage grin on his face as he ran for the forge—something he had been working on, would be perfect to shoot that thing down—

Because there was only one dragon that Callaghan had not succeeded in killing—only one that no one had ever brought down.

And if _he_ did…well, consider that ceiling shattered.

Practically dive into the forge, rooting around, digging out the tripod-mounted device—curse those bumbling buffoons, it’d take him all day tomorrow to straighten this out—run back out, heading for the cliffside as several others dodged Nadder spikes—

Force himself to be calm as he set up, lest his unfortunate skull pattern give himself away—Night Furies, from his observance, attacked the towers, destroying them so other dragons could attack without fear. Intelligent, sure—but with an attack pattern like that, they were predictable to the right person.

He was that right person, had calculated the trajectory right down to the microsecond—just set up, wait, wait….

He heard the whistling approaching, from his left—it meant it would be illuminated for a split-second after the tower went—wait, wait….

_Boom._

There!

One shot—net flailing out—

And then a dark shape, arcing towards Akatori Point.

He couldn’t help the triumphant bark, the fist pump—he hadn’t been this thrilled in _years_ , but he had done it—done the one thing Callaghan hadn’t done—face flaring in his excitement—

A roar—a whistling noise—

He dove for cover, device exploding a moment later—

Which was about the time he realized there was another Night Fury.

Said Night Fury was bellowing to suit his species name, glaring at the not-dragon before flying up, screaming for help as he scanned the dark ground below—

Honeysuckle-in-Full-Bloom was almost instantly at his side, breaking away from her supervising and directing route.

_“What? What happened?”_ she demanded.

_“Little-Brother!”_ he bellowed. _“That—that thing shot down Little-Brother!”_

Honeysuckle gasped, clasping her front paws to her muzzle, blue eyes wide—yes, that was about how he felt on the matter.

_“Cut the raid short!”_ he ordered. _“We have to find him! We have to find him before the Yokai do!”_

She nodded, spinning away and up, roaring to attract attention before roaring the _retreat-regroup-return_ pattern—

He was already shooting off in the direction that Little-Brother had arced away to, scanning the ground—couldn’t see anything for the thick trees, and with no moon—they had picked the new moon for this very reason, and now that stinking orb didn’t even have the decency to help him find his brother!

He should have never have agreed—should have never agreed to let Little-Brother come along, no matter how insistent, no matter how begging—he was hardly old enough to be let out of the nest, brimming with precociousness—he had thought—they had _all_ thought he could handle it!

_“Now remember,” he had told him on the flight over. “You stay on my tail at all times. No grandstanding, no splintering off and attacking, all I’m going to do is fly around and attack the towers before going and doing a supervising circle with Honeysuckle. Okay?”_

_“Okay,” Little-Brother had said, vibrating with excitement, Blue-Firescales cheering him on, equally excited—Swift-Strike had been more calm, already focused on the mission, Healing-Talons looking like he was already anxious about any potential injuries. Possible, considering their destination._

_Greenscales had shared this sentiment._

_“Am I the only one who’s worried about this?” he asked the flight at large. “These not-dragons are the worst— everyone knows Yokai are the worst! They’re worse than Vikings, guys—VIKINGS!”_

_Older-Brother agreed, and he knew that most of the flight did too—but Mountain-King wouldn’t be accepting that, would be eating them if they refused. All he could do was waggle his wings at the Stormcutter apologetically._

_“We’ll be fine,” Swift-Strike said, signaling the other Nadders as they neared their destination. “Just stick to the plan.”_

_“I’d rather we attack one of the other settlements—Berk, even! At least they take prisoners!”_

_Healing-Talons tipped his wings up so he was flying next to Greenscales. “There there—it will be fine.”_

_Older-Brother hoped so._

But now things were _not_ fine, Little-Brother had been shot down and everyone knew that a downed dragon was a dead dragon what would he tell Older-Light-Fury he had _promised_ to keep Little-Brother safe and now—

Now, because someone had been aiming for _him_ , had been half a second off in aiming for _him_ , they had taken down Little-Brother.

_Someone_ was going to pay.


	2. The Downed Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2, everybody! In which we kick off Obake’s hairbrained scheme….
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney  
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks

Obake dusted himself off, watching as the dragons flew away with their spoils. At least that was over—a little steamed that he had missed the Night Fury, but….

But he had certainly _heard_ a Night Fury shriek as _something_ went down…a second one?

There was only one way to find out.

He ran back to the forge, packed some supplies in record time, was already heading out the door when some of the other villagers went by, heading for the main hall. Probably being called for a meeting, something confirmed when Carl told him to come on.

“Oh, would love to, really I would,” he said, walking backwards to address them as he went in the opposite direction. “But things to do, Night Furies to find and slay, be back with a _lovely_ new coat.”

Carl’s friend Dibs was really too skinny and stupid to be laughing so hard his knees buckled. Carl shrugged at him, picked up Dibs and headed for the hall.

“Fine—your funeral,” he told Obake.

Yes, that would be true— _if_ he came back empty-handed.

And if Callaghan cared enough to even notice he was gone.

Later—for now, he had a dragon to find.

They had regrouped on an island off of the one with the not-dragon settlement, had sent those with spoils back to the nest. Others volunteered to go fishing, so they wouldn’t return empty-clawed.

That left exactly six dragons, Older-Brother included, to hunt for Little-Brother.

Older-Brother, meanwhile, was pacing as Honeysuckle waved the last of the dragons off, insides twisting themselves into knots—every minute Little-Brother spent grounded was a minute where something nasty could find him—wolves, bears, not-dragons, Vikings, Yokai—the little hatchling that he had vowed to protect would die a horrible messy death and it would be _his fault_.

They launched themselves towards the larger island as dawn broke.

_“Remember: be careful,”_ Swift-Strike said. _“We’ll all be downed dragons if the Yokai see us during the day.”_

Greenscales whimpered, beating his four wings a few times in an attempt to calm himself.

_“Healing-Talons, you circle with Honeysuckle,”_ Older-Brother told the Wooly Howl, indicating the Light Fury flying next to him. _“When we find Little-Brother, you’re going to have to be ready to dive in and help.”_

_“I will be ready,”_ Healing-Talons assured him.

_“Good luck,”_ Honeysuckle told him, flying up with Healing-Talons right behind her.

Older-Brother nodded, angling to better circle and scan the woods with the others.

A few circuits later, and he had to confess that Little-Brother was still small enough that his crash probably wouldn’t leave enough of an impact to mar the woods, and he resorted to trying to call for him, hoping he wasn’t knocked out—rumble in his bones telling him that Mountain-King was aware of their truancy, cries in his ears telling him the Yokai were aware of their presence. The sun was barely overhead when they had to concede defeat.

Honeysuckle put her paw on his shoulder. _“We’ll come back,”_ she assured him. _“We’ll come back and find him.”_

Older-Brother nodded soberly. _“Tonight.”_

And as they flew away, one thought dominated his mind.

_Wait for me, little brother._

Well, the good news was, the sound of circling dragons had long since faded.

The bad news was, it was late afternoon, and despite calculating trajectories, he hadn’t found anything yet—not even a trace of anything. He was fanning out farther, growing more desperate, wondering if it had fallen into the ocean or something like that….

Or maybe his luck was just that bad. Maybe he was doomed to this fate.

He gusted an aggrieved sigh, resting his head against a tree and forcing his breathing to be calm until he stopped feeling his face flare. Calm, be calm, think—there was indeed a chance that it had fallen into the ocean, but he had been pretty certain it had hit the ground somewhere on the point—all he had to do was find it…it might take some time, but he would find it.

It wasn’t like there was anything waiting for him back at the village, to be honest.

He paused at the next clearing that offered a view of the ocean, not for the first time wondering why he didn’t just leave. As always, several reasons occurred to him: as a Yokai, he was a pariah—everyone knew that they took no prisoners and brooked no quarter; Callaghan had made sure of that reputation. And the one group that might— _might_ —take him in, that had gone with Granville…well, there was no telling if they were still alive or not, and he only had a vague idea of which direction they had gone, well over twenty years ago. That was a lot of ocean to travel by oneself, even if his end goal was to just find someplace where the Yokai name hadn’t reached.

He flirted with the idea of changing outfits, ditching the long dark coat, the vest, the pants, the sweater—finding some other outfit that didn’t scream where he was from. But his face would give him away eventually, and trying to keep it from doing so would keep him alienated. Darn it, he wasn’t wanting to socialize, but he wanted to at least have the _option_ —

He froze in the act of brushing a branch away, realized it was hanging on by only a few strips of bark—

Like something had come barreling through here recently.

He skidded down the slope, following the faint signs of something heavily crashing through, digging in his pack as he went—found his crossbow as he skidded to a halt behind a large boulder.

“Why yes, Chief Callaghan, that _is_ a Night Fury,” he muttered to himself, unable to keep a grin off his face as he readied his crossbow. “Yes indeed, I think I’ll turn it into a nice coat, maybe use the leftover as a rug. Now about that promotion—” Promotion! If he came back to the village dragging a Night Fury corpse, he was almost certain he would be _running_ the place before the end of the day!

Froze at the sound of some plaintive warbling—this was it—it was definitely just beyond this little rise—a nice feather in his cap—the _best_ feather in his cap—just a few feet away.

_This is it,_ he thought, forcing his breathing to be calm and even. _This is the moment of truth, the moment when you get everything you deserve—the moment when staying behind didn’t turn out to be a waste after all._

Scowl at that thought, swing the crossbow to low ready, slip out from behind the boulder and dart up the rise, aiming, scanning for something scaly—

Nothing.

He lowered the crossbow slightly, eyes raking the area, trying to keep the confusion down—he had heard it—was it an echo? It could be, the way these hills were—

Or it was already gone.

But he had tested that stupid thing! Skid down the slope, cursing—had tested it and tested it—it grounded Gronkles and Nadders and Zipplebacks well enough (Nightmares, not so much, only because of their nasty habit of setting themselves on fire). Reach the bottom, ears straining—

Whimpering. Coming from behind those bushes.

There we go.

Steal up to the bushes, crossbow ready, carefully treading around, aiming—

His heart fairly stopped at the sight of black scales moving.

Of course Night Furies would be black as pitch—his mind couldn’t help but pick at the inane thought as he circled around for a better shot—black on black, a faint pattern evident in the scales—would break up the silhouette, the color, make camouflage easier for it—body streamlined, perfect for fast flight….

Really thought it would be bigger though.

It was trying to wriggle away, was making some time, eyes rolling as its head flailed—green eyes, pupils catlike slits, mouth full of teeth—

And then it spotted him.

He could see the emotion—the horror stealing over its scales, shrinking in fear—bah! But this was good—if the most feared of all dragons felt that way about him—

It curled up as best it could, trembling, eyes clenched shut, braced for the end. It was expecting death, knew it was going to die today….

Was really too small to be a full-grown Night Fury.

Crossbow wavered…finally lowered it, considering. What, precisely, was a young Night Fury doing out here?

…And could he do something with it?

Rub his face, considering…even a small dragon could be lethal—just look at the Terrible Terrors. But…still, a young dragon….Glance it over—the outer wing bone was broken, skin swollen and obviously bending wrong there—it couldn’t exactly fly away right now….

Maybe there was an option. Maybe he could test a theory—a hair-brained theory, but a theory.

_Maybe a full-grown Night Fury could carry a person._

He made his decision, figured he’d never get another opportunity to test it—put the crossbow down and pull out a knife, mince over, start cutting some of the ropes free—general idea of how to bind that wing—

Was prepared for it to lunge at him, teeth bared, eyes crazed—caught it and clamped its mouth shut—splayed hands matching the length and breadth of the spade-shaped head.

“Calm down you idiot creature!” he hissed. “I’m trying to help!”

Still squirming, but it focused on him, eyes searching his face—nerves were making his face flare again, but he couldn’t do anything about that right now—

Slowly stopped squirming, still trembling—he figured he’d take what he could get, let go…leave the rest of it bound for now while he tried to figure out the wing.

Approaching it like a regular broken bone only went so far, since it started flailing again when he tried to set it and splint it—did finally manage something that looked right and kept the bone in place, carefully eased it into place and tied it down, cannibalizing his pack and the rest of the trap to do so. The shadows were long and threatening nightfall by the time he finished, sitting back and rubbing his exhausted eyes. Sleep—sleep was probably a good idea sometime soon.

Which was about the time it occurred to the dragon that his guard was down and now would be a good time to bolt—which it did.

“Idiot,” he muttered to himself—should have tied it to something, a tree, himself, anything—could hear it screaming through the woods, same sort of noise over and over again—

There had been two Night Furies—this one, and the one that had attacked him after he shot it down.

He scanned the darkening skies, muscles tightening, free hand questing for his crossbow—knowing the sort of shape he was looking for did him no good—neither did panicking, he thought, feeling his face flare again—

He didn’t see anything, but that didn’t mean much—just—find it and shut it up.

Make his way through the darkening woods after it, heart pounding—honestly the most terror he had felt in a long time—he was out of his element out here, up against an opponent he wouldn’t see coming, all for a scheme that hadn’t even seen an oven, let alone be half-baked. This was lunacy at its finest, he was sure.

Dark scales blended in with the shadows, but he could spot the canvas bandaging easily enough—it was currently in the bottom of a little vale, hiccupping in between cries, good wing flapping weakly—about as pitiful as you could get. He approached cautiously—

It must have sensed him—spun around, spotted him, started backing away, spine arched, mouth open, hissing—him ready to dive away in case that hissing became the telltale whistling that signaled its breath attack—

Try something different—put down the knife and crossbow, hands up, down on one knee, trying for unassuming.

“You’re not going to go anywhere like that,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm—cool, calm, collected, _cool, calm, collected—_ “And you can’t keep rattling around like this—something will eat you.” Hardly—the island had been overhunted, to the point where he’d be surprised if squirrels were still around. “Just…stop that.”

It probably wasn’t motivated to listen to him at all—he couldn’t do nice or comforting if you paid him—but it did stop hissing, ear flaps tipping about, seeming to shrink in on itself…minced back a step when he eased forward.

He stopped, considering…sat back, watching its movements, trying to figure out a way to get closer. It watched him, green eyes wide….

Gingerly stepped closer.

It was an inch, maybe, but it was an inch he was willing to take—very gently ease his way down the slope, where it didn’t bolt or back off…get close enough that he could reach out and touch it, if he so desired.

That didn’t seem like a good idea, though.

Gingerly reach out, enough to let it sniff his hand, but able to yank back if it looked like it was going to take a bite out of it instead—it sniffed at him, snorted, went back to searching his face again—

“I wouldn’t have gone to all that trouble just to kill you,” he told it. That would change if it attacked, but for now….

It sniffed his hand again….

Surprised him by pressing its head into his palm.

He blinked, barely processing this—

And then it dove for his chest.

He fell back, yelping—this was it, this was when his stupid idea killed him—

Except it wasn’t attacking—claws were digging in, yes, but it looked and felt like it was doing its best to curl up against him, still shaking and whining piteously. He gingerly patted it, not sure how to proceed—honestly, he was surprised he made it this far.

What he _did_ know was that for this scheme to succeed, he needed to be able to keep this dragon someplace where it couldn’t run off.

…he knew just the place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won’t say that ‘Dibs’ is Globby’s real name, because I get the impression that’s a nickname too, but it was Globby’s non-glob name, so…we’ll go with that. *shrugs*


	3. The Cove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3, everybody! I know this week was supposed to be an update for The Things We Do For Science, but I hit a small delay on that one so have an update here instead. ^^;
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney  
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks

It was after sundown by the time he found the proper landmarks that directed him to the spot he wanted—the whole time weighed down by a little dragon clinging desperately to him, something that took both arms to manage. Really hoped he could find his stuff later, because he wasn’t able to carry it now.

Probably a good thing, he reflected—the dragon was trembling bad enough now without being close to weapons that would probably make it panic, and he needed this thing to like him, trust him—at least, if it was going to be his ticket out of here.

If not, it could certainly be his ticket to the top.

He put those thoughts on the backburner for now, focusing on slipping through the crevasse in the rocks with a little dragon that insisted on staying pressed against his chest—finally managed to get it to perch on his arm, balancing precariously as he squeezed through—

“There we go,” he announced, once they were through, bringing his arm back in and letting the dragon press in close. “Not bad, is it? There’s food and water and shelter and an entrance too small to let bears or wolves in.” Not that he thought there were still any on Yokai, but you never knew.

And best of all, the walls of the cove were too sheer for the dragon to climb out, and it certainly wasn’t flying anywhere with a bad wing. The entrance he had squeezed through was a problem, sure, but he was certain he could puzzle a way around that. No, he was pretty sure the only thing he had to worry about was it accidentally drowning in the pond over there.

And probably peeling it off of himself, at this point.

Dark had fully settled in and his eyes had adjusted by the time he conceded defeat, lest he get further scratched up—no going back to the village tonight, not with a live dragon clinging to him. Blundering around in the dark after wood to start a fire wasn’t too appealing either—no, he was looking at a cold, miserable night out in the woods because of some stupid clingy dragon.

He managed to lay down against a boulder, felt around to see if there was anything decidedly nasty lurking…probably not. Snake meat had been in vogue for a while after most of the larger animals had been hunted to extinction on the island; there was precious little left as far as living animals were concerned.

“I hope you’re worth all this,” he said, directing his ire to where he was pretty sure the dragon still was, claws digging in his vest and sweater and poking through the thick material. “You’ve been nothing but trouble so far.”

He got a little warble in response, claws digging in deeper—well, he supposed he had slept in more uncomfortable positions. At least the dragon was somewhat warm.

It took forever for sleep to come.

_“Now remember: no grandstanding, no showing off, no flying off on your own—you stay on my tail, all right?”_

_“Right,” he had said, rolling his eyes—he could have flown south and found one of those colorful parrots and gotten the same result, the number of times Older-Brother had told him this on the flight over._

_“I’m serious,” Older-Brother said, looking at him as the others flew into position. “Don’t make me make you stay with Honeysuckle.”_

_“I am going to be right on your tail the whole time,” Little-Brother said staunchly, not wanting to be relegated to the supervisory flight pattern—it was fine, it was important, he’d see everything, but it wasn’t the same as actually flying in the thick of things._

_Older-Brother searched his expression, nodded finally, twitched his wings._

_“Okay,” he said. “Stay on my tail.”_

_And stay on his tail he did, glancing aside at the action but always keeping those black fins in his vision, savoring the flight, the quick course corrections, the adjustments to the wings and fins when a burst of heat threw them off—first one tower fell, then the next—_

_He couldn’t help the wild whoop as Older-Brother blasted the last of the towers, grinning madly as Older-Brother looked back at him, triumphant—_

_And then something slammed into him—the ground rushed up—_

_The last thing he heard was his brother screaming._

Little-Brother started awake, ears upright, claws tight, breathing rapid—glancing around frantically—this wasn’t the nest—this wasn’t—

A noise beneath him told him he was digging his claws into something soft and fleshy—

Jump back, swallowing his startled scream, claws digging into sandy sod—don’t even breathe, don’t even—

The not-dragon rolled over, still mercifully asleep.

Little-Brother let out his breath in a hiss, recalling what had happened after the events of his dream—waking up, bound and downed, in the middle of an unfamiliar forest where anything could get him—he had screamed for Older-Brother, hoping he was still flying around, searching for him—

But he had heard the Mountain-King’s call, knew everyone had to return….

They’d come back for him, right?

Maybe he could go back—do the check, do the check every dragon did upon waking up in the morning—tail fins, check. Tail, check. Dorsal fins, check. Wings—

Wings were where he ran into a problem.

He sniffed at his bound left wing, started to chew on the binding—smelled his own hot skin, remembered the horrible feeling of bone grinding against bone. Downed—broken wing—

_A downed dragon is a dead dragon._

He glanced back at the not-dragon, the one that had bound his wing, had shot him down—he had smelled it on the ropes, knew it had tracked him down to kill him—

…So why hadn’t it?

He stomped a foot, thinking—not-dragons were dangerous on principle, despite having no claws or wings or sharp teeth or fire or other breath weapon. They weren’t even venomous.

But they could kill dragons. The softer general ones, the great shaggy horned Viking variety—

And these, the worst. Black scales on a dragon said that they were Night Furies, the fastest and most deadly of dragons.

Black hide on a not-dragon said they were a Yokai, the deadliest and most determined of all not-dragons. Greenscales had recommended Berk as a target for the next raid, despite it being home to Vikings—but as he had said, Vikings took live prisoners.

Yokai did not—Yokai killed dragons implicitly and with no hesitation. This one, with the furless black hide—this was a Yokai.

So why was he still alive?

He didn’t know—what he did know was that his stomach was roiling. He hadn’t eaten anything since the night before last, a whole fish because Older-Brother had told him he wasn’t hungry—Mountain-King had first right to all food.

Mountain-King very rarely shared.

Sniff the air, glance at the pond, glance at the Yokai—it wasn’t moving. Was it dead?...No, he wasn’t that lucky, it was still breathing—not evenly, but it was.

He could kill it, he supposed—close up breath attack—he had enough firepower at this point for one good one—one good shot would do it.

…Attacking a sleeping opponent just didn’t sit right with him though. His brother, sure, because that was play-fighting—attacking to kill…not while it was asleep. That was just…it was wrong. He could feel it.

His stomach rumbled again—he went to the water to get a drink, try to still it. Spot something flickering in the water—fish. Older-Brother had blasted a school on the way over, large enough to give everyone a fish or two—except Older-Brother, busy making sure everyone else ate. He was going to kill himself someday, worried about everyone else like he did.

He missed him terribly.

_Older-Brother will come save me,_ he assured himself. _He’ll come, beat the Yokai, and take me home. My wing will heal._ Hopefully. And hopefully Mountain-King wouldn’t eat him for being useless.

The fish were catching the sun tantalizingly, sliver flecks deep in the water, drifting up close to the surface—he tried ducking his head in after one—missed—Swift-Strike was always better at that than he was. Scan the pool in frustration—

Spotted where some rocks loomed above it.

Rocks easy enough to climb.

Glance at the Yokai before going for the rocks, climbing up, claws digging in, slipping more often than not because he had only one wing available for balancing—he was going to gnaw that wing free, just as soon as he got some breakfast—

Balanced on the rocks above, looking down at the pool below—cool, deep, fish flickering within. His sharp eyes picked out the largest group—do it—do it like Older-Brother did—

Glance at the Yokai—but he only had one good shot at his age—if he wasted it on food….

No—no it wasn’t a waste, food was fuel, and he could still shoot a weaker one afterwards, maybe—and he still had his teeth and claws—

His stomach would be denied no longer—he shot the blast.

Water gusted up, fish flailing away—the Yokai started awake at that—oh no get ready to run—

But there were stunned fish floating now, including some floating close enough that he could grab some. Slip off the rocks, on the opposite side from the Yokai, slink down to the water, keeping an eye on the Yokai as he tried to gingerly paw a fish close—it was sitting up, looking around, looking up at the exit, sighing—should have tried that first, idiot dragon—but if he just ducked into a hiding spot—maybe it would leave, maybe it would leave him be—

Too late—it had looked around, spotted him at the water.

He scrambled frantically for a Plan B, hooked his claws into the fish, flipped it up on land—pinched the tail between his teeth and flipped it towards the Yokai as best he could, thankfully getting it closer to the Yokai than himself.

_“There,”_ he said quickly, shuffling backwards, eyeing the exit. _“Eat that—you don’t have to eat me, eat the fish.”_ Yokai definitely ate dragons, that was the prevailing rumor that adult dragons liked to share with young dragonets—downed them, swarmed them, ate them, wore their scales and used their bones for their dens. What did Greenscales wail when Mountain-King was looking at him funny? _“Not me—eat the fish. I’m—I’m all tough and gamey and stringy.”_

The Yokai was staring at him, something approaching confusion on its weird flat face, no muzzle at all—looked down at the fish, back up at him.

_“Please eat the fish,”_ he begged, muscles tensed, ready to flee.

The Yokai finally, gingerly, took the fish—Little-Brother breathed a sigh of relief—sucked it back in when the Yokai put it aside and stood up—brace to flee until it paced over to the tree growing near the edge of the cove, picking up fallen sticks. Was it building a nest? He didn’t want to be food for baby Yokai if that were the case—eye the Yokai, start sneaking for the exit—

Its attention snapped to him immediately—he flattened himself against the ground, ears and sensory nubs pinned back.

It went back to collecting sticks, pointedly walked in front of the exit when it finished, deposited the sticks next to the fish, looked back at the exit, considering….

Little-Brother watched as it ripped a chunk of bark off of a dying tree and wedged it in the crevasse—could still get out that way, but the delay would be enough that it could catch him. There was only one surefire way of getting out of here, and that was straight up.

He couldn’t do that with a bound wing.

He waited until it was distracted by its nest building, started gnawing at the ropes binding his wing—had to get it free, had to get out of here—

“Stop that.”

Freeze—head shot up to see the Yokai glaring at him.

“Your wing will never heal up if you keep messing with it,” the Yokai said, pointing a stick at him before going back to the nest that was really a very pathetic nest—what was all that noise anyway? Did Yokai communicate?

The point still stood that he needed to get out of here—glance at the pool, where some of the fish were starting to float over to the edge…sidle over to them, start pawing—make it think he had forgotten about escaping, kind of inch over to the exit…a weaker shot might get through the bark…but would he have to save it in case the Yokai came after him?

No matter if he escaped or not, he couldn’t go without eating for much longer—snatch up the fish and gobble it down, stomach making all sorts of noises as the cool flesh slid into his stomach. Oh, he needed that—another fish, over there—

He had slurped up the second one when he realized that the Yokai’s little nest was on fire.

He couldn’t help but stare—pretty sure that wasn’t intentional. Sure, some dragons accidentally set their nests on fire when they were working on them…didn’t think Yokai did too. But then again, Yokai _did_ fling fire around—

His ears shot up when the Yokai speared the fish and stuck it in the fire. That was…that was not normal. Dragons did not eat fish that had been on fire, usually—again, that was generally an accident. But this was intentional….

There was another fish, one of two left—the other one was floating near the Yokai. Debate…gingerly mouth the fish and edge over to where the Yokai was, making sure it saw him and keeping an eye on it to make sure it didn’t decide to attack or just didn’t want him to be near it…it was watching him carefully, but didn’t seem inclined to attack. That didn’t stop him from taking increasingly mincing steps though, cautiously sidling up to the fire that was pleasantly warm to his scales. Mouth starting to water from the fish, stomach wondering why said fish was not going into his stomach….

Spit the fish into the fire and then back up quickly.

One of the thin lines of fur that substituted for an eye ridge on a not-dragon sneaked up, but otherwise the Yokai didn’t react. Go get the other fish, keeping an eye on the Yokai as he did—ear flaps up as the Yokai turned the speared fish. Definitely intentional. Consider the fish he had in his mouth…drop it and nudge it aside—he wanted a good-tasting fish if this experiment ended up tasting bad. Hiss weakly when the Yokai tried to poke his fish—it backed off. Okay…so maybe he had some leverage here. Or maybe it wasn’t hungry enough to contest this.

Or it wanted him fat and full first.

He watched carefully as the Yokai checked its own fish, eyes slitted but watching him before peeling the skin off and eating the now-white meat inside—again, wondering if dragons and not-dragons had similar behavior. And while he was wondering….

It was hard to keep his focus split between the Yokai and the fire, since both were liable to bite, but he managed to quickly yank the fish out of the fire, scattering coals everywhere. Flip it around, trying to get the fire to stop eating it—half of it was still wet and fishy, the other half nasty and crunchy, unpleasantly warm when he ate it. It was not a good combination. He looked to where he had left his other fish—

Gone. Look around—on a stick, in the fire.

_“Hey!”_ he protested, forgetting for a moment that he was barking at the most dangerous breed of not-dragon known to dragonkind. Said not-dragon didn’t seem impressed, eyes half closed, paw splayed against its flat muzzle.

He backed up a little, evaluating it—the toes on the forepaws were too long, claws useless little nubs on the tips. Articulated though, like he had seen on some fur-food. No scales for protection—no wonder they needed to steal the hides of other animals (now _there_ was a scare-you-story, the idea that a not-dragon would find you when you were sleeping and steal your skin—told to emphasize the importance of not being lazy and falling asleep wherever). No fur either, except for two thin lines as eyeridge substitutes and generally a mop on the top of their heads (more when it came to shaggy Vikings). This one seemed to have fur that resembled some of the colorful parrots from way down south, with more of a crest on top with two stripes of red on one side.

Something else that made it different from other not-dragons he had seen from afar: the face.

Oh sure, it was flat and muzzle-less, mouth as mobile as their foretoes but not nearly big enough for biting, definitely didn’t have the teeth for it, skin weird and pale and with a grayish cast, like it didn’t have enough blood pumping beneath. All that was still normal for a not-dragon.

This one, however, had a pattern under the skin, on the left side—like half of a not-dragon’s skull. It was faint—most not-dragons of any species probably wouldn’t see it—but it was there.

Something ridiculous occurred to him just then—maybe this Yokai…maybe it wasn’t a _full_ Yokai. Maybe it was some sort of subspecies. Of the kind that didn’t eat dragons. Maybe it only ate fish. And helped downed dragons that it had shot down to begin with.

It was still eyeing him, expressions smacking too close to dragon expressions to be calming, and it occurred to him then that he had basically been staring it down and that was bad dragon etiquette and it meant you wanted to start a fight—it was too late to back down now though—looking away was weakness—if he looked away, that was saying he was submissive, easy to attack—

The Yokai looked away first, surprisingly, with as much care as one would reserve for checking the sky to see if rain was coming—Little-Brother was vaguely insulted, as it turned the speared fish over, checking to see if there was any more of that weird white meat sticking to the bone, turned the other fish over so both sides were fire-nibbled (maybe that was the error in his experiment)—

Surprised Little-Brother by taking the half-fish off the stick and holding it out to him.

He stared at the half-fish, looked back up at the Yokai, searching its face—did…did not-dragons have the same customs about food-sharing as dragons did? You didn’t share food unless you were very fond of each other, family—at minimum, wanting to be friends.

Did…did this Yokai…did it want to be friends?

No—no, Yokai were dragon-slayers—this one smelled like one too, all the different dragon-smells on it—there were only two ways to get that smell: be a part of a mixed flight or be bathed in their blood. This Yokai was definitely not part of a flight.

Did it want to be?

No—that was about as smart as letting a dragonbite viper into a nest—one did not simply befriend a Yokai.

But was it a full Yokai even? His eyes drifted to the left side of its face again, where that weird skull pattern was still underneath the skin. Was it like Nadder-not-Gronkle, a very obviously Gronkle that had been adopted by Nadders when it was still fresh out of the egg and its parents got eaten? Or was this all a ploy?

Its shoulders twitched, kind of like dragon wings when expressing _meh, whatever_ —put the half-fish down near Little-Brother before returning its attention to the other speared fish, now brown and crackly on both sides.

The half-fish smelled much better than Little-Brother’s attempt at fire-feeding. Eye the Yokai carefully, start to dip his head a little….

Consider. Did he want to do this? Let this Yokai think he was a friend? Maybe it knew dragon customs, maybe it was trying to get him to let his guard down. Was this poison? A poison that only affected dragons?

It was still watching him carefully—not in an anticipatory way, like you did when you were waiting for your brother to fall into your cleverly-laid-out trap; more in the _I know you’re getting ready to pounce and I’m planning accordingly_ way. It was…as concerned about him as he was of it.

Gently dip his head the rest of the way, mouth the fish, swallow it—dry and kind of yucky on the way down, but the fire-ate aroma was tasty in his mouth afterwards. The Yokai’s mouth twitched before it went back to its fish, eventually sharing that one as well.

And when it did, Little-Brother had an idea—a crazy, stupid idea, but an idea.

His wing was broken, there was no denying that. This Yokai might— _might_ , mind you—be taking care of him. If he went back to the nest now, Mountain-King would kill him, sure as sure—gobble him up for being useless.

What if he wasn’t useless? What if he went back with information no dragon had ever had?

What if he went back with a detailed account of how Yokai behaved?

Granted, it was just the one, and one was enough—and it might not even be a full Yokai. But it _was_ a not-dragon, and any information he could provide….

He made his decision, right then, right there.

He was going to train a Yokai.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those of you who follow me on Tumblr might recognize a bit here from one of the Six Sentence Sundays I did. Dragonbite vipers are something from Tui T. Suitherland’s Wings of Fire series, and seemed like they’d fit here.


	4. Naming the Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Geez, kid, you gotta get out more often. _Fun!_ "  
> \--Timon, _The Lion King II: Simba's Pride_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4, everybody! Let’s just assume steady updates for this until I get the other fic’s rear in gear. X|
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney  
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks

Well this could be going better.

Obake was stiff from one side to the other thanks to sleeping on the ground with a dragon on top of him, had been rudely woken up before he was ready by a whistling and an explosion—had catapulted awake thinking dragon raid—

No, no…just his little experiment.

Okay, so, bad news: young Night Furies still had their breath weapon. Good news: it had seemed more inclined to use it on a pool full of fish instead of him, so there was some hope. Even better, he had found a way to at least slow it down as far as escaping the cove went, so….It tossing a fish at him was odd though.

Still remarkably skittish, which was to be expected—flattening itself to the ground when he looked at it, staying on the opposite side of the pool…at least until he apparently baffled it by cooking the fish over a fire.

Now _that_ was an interesting wrinkle, it tossing a fish into the fire to see what happened. And it was willing to take scraps, so there was some progress, he figured.

And now for the rest of the day, which had a twofold purpose, as far as he was concerned. One: getting the dragon acclimated to his presence.

Two: avoiding the village for as long as he was able.

Would probably have to go back tonight, at least to get some supplies—something better suited to keeping the bones in a dragon wing still and aligned, for starters. He was pretty certain he could machine something innocuous enough up in the forge, sketching ideas in the sand as the dragon explored the cove, walking circuits around the pool to see if any more fish had floated up, and routinely fetching sticks and dropping them next to Obake. He had no idea what prompted this bizarre behavior.

Now, however, because apparently it had decided it was tired of walking around the cove, it was sitting across from him and watching him scratch out designs in the sand. He wondered what it thought of the action, if there was some sort of dragon-habit that sand doodles translated into. Or maybe he was giving it too much credit.

But there _was_ definitely intelligence behind those eyes—not human-level, certainly, but definitely minimum dog-level.

It made a noise, stood, paced away again. Glance to make sure it wasn’t trying to escape…no, no, just another stick, this one long and straight, like the one he was working with. Trotted back over to him—well, that was progressing nicely—

Blink when it dug the tip of the stick into the sand and started going around him, spinning at times, tossing its head at others, most definitely attempting to draw in the sand, if one were being generous. He watched, confused, until it finally came to a halt in front of him and sat down, glancing at him, the lines in the sand, back up at him.

He looked at the whole event, back to it—free hand palm up. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

It tipped its head, considering…worked the stick around in its mouth until it was holding an end, reached over, careful not to touch its own lines—got ready to bring the stick down on his sketches.

He used his own to parry. “Ha.”

The dragon tried again—quick block. Try again—quick block. Shift its weight to lean closer, try again—block, this time flipping the stick out to land on its line.

The dragon quickly moved the stick to catch his.

On a purely analytical level, this was idiocy—he was basically engaged in a swordfight with a dragon, defending sand doodles that would be gone with the next rain.

But another part of him was actually enjoying himself, surprisingly—this was…dare he say it? Kind of fun, and he had forgotten what fun felt like.

The dragon finally managed to hit his stick in a way that ripped it out of his hand—it dropped its own stick, yipping happily as it bounced up and down on its front paws.

“Fine, you won this round,” he told it, feeling a smile on his face and not quite sure how it got there. Sit forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands dangling….

The dragon sniffed at one of his hands—probably smelled fish—he got ready to move—

It surprised him by nuzzling in against his palm.

Okay, this particular smile had _no_ business on his face, he had no reason to have that giddy feeling bubbling up as he rubbed its head, scratching behind its ears and under its jawline, it purring happily and mincing closer the longer this went on.

Afternoon…he remembered vaguely, from before Callaghan had taken over, when pets weren’t considered frivolous—you weren’t supposed to name something the first day. But it had been long enough, he thought, and it had certainly survived overnight….

And he was feeling attached, surprisingly.

Move his hand so the scratching was under the jaw, push a little so he could look it in the eye. Green eyes, pupils now wide, squarish instead of round. Ears up, body wiggling a little. Definitely a far cry from yesterday, or even this morning.

Yes sir, he had no business smiling like he was, but he wasn’t going to complain—things were going off without a hitch.

Enough so that he did indeed feel comfortable enough naming this thing.

“Hiro.”

This was going quite well, if you asked Little-Brother.

The Yokai was sticking around and not trying to kill him, which was good—mostly just lazing about near the fire, like a full content predator. But it didn’t seem inclined to attack, even with him moving around, exploring the cove and checking to see if any more fish had decided to go belly up (they had not, which was very rude), both of them watching each other carefully…this was good. This was definitely good.

Not good enough to get him to let his guard down though.

He started bringing sticks over to spit next to the Yokai after a while, mostly because he needed something to do, mostly because he figured the Yokai might appreciate the help making another nest, one that hopefully _didn’t_ catch on fire this time. It glanced over every time he brought a stick, would occasionally throw one in the fire, but didn’t seem inclined to try to make another nest. More inclined to keep the fire fed, for some reason.

Sitting across from it and watching it scratch in the sand, he figured it was because fire was pleasantly warm when it was fed and not raging hungrily. The scales on that side were feeling nice and sun-baked, even after the sun moved and started casting long shadows along the cove. He wasn’t _quite_ drowsy, but with a full belly and warm scales, he was feeling remarkably calm for sitting across from a predator that hunted dragons.

He was still turning over just _why_ this Yokai was being friendly after shooting him down—maybe it just needed to get a dragon’s attention, and a tied-up one was the only way it could think of without ending in a fight? No, no, that didn’t make sense—it seemed quite ready to shoot him before it changed its mind and let him loose. Did it know he was young, and had the same wrong-feeling about killing younglings as he did killing sleeping targets? There was a reason, a good reason—he was sure of it. If he could just figure it out….

He looked back at the scratching in the sand, wondering if it was trying for a sand-nest this time…blinked at the distinct patterns. Honeysuckle liked making patterns in the sand, scraping out big lines that made pictures if seen from high enough up—they usually had to drag her back from any sandy beaches they found. Was this something that needed to be seen from far away? Yokai didn’t fly (as far as he knew, although they _were_ capable of crossing water)—did this have some other purpose?

Hence his test—dragging a stick around in the sand around the Yokai, mostly to get attention and see the reaction. It wasn’t like either one of them could get high enough to see any pattern.

Neither its posture nor its tone seemed impressed, like Honeysuckle would be if someone tried to do sand-scratches—next test: Honeysuckle hated it if someone messed up one of her lines. Move the stick around in his mouth, reached out, got ready to bring the stick down on its lines—

It blocked, barking out a short _ha_.

Aha! So it _did_ care about the lines! Try again, same result, try again, same result, try again—block it when it tried to scratch at his own lines. Glance up at its face—oh, it was _on_ now.

Something occurred to him, while engaging in this mock-fight (he was pretty sure it was a mock-fight)—he was stick-fighting with the most dangerous creature known to dragonkind. On the one talon, this was a fun game that he was definitely going to do with Older-Brother when he got back; on the other…this was _very_ strange.

And then he succeeded in taking its stick away from it.

He couldn’t help dropping his own stick and bouncing up and down, cheering at his success—take that! Forget that he was facing down a predator that was…also happy, if that’s what the curved mouth and bared teeth meant—he couldn’t see any ill intent in the expression….

It had been a big leap, nerve-wracking, to put his head against one of the forepaws that still smelled like fish, eyes closed and braced for an impact.

He was rewarded by those clever paws groom-nibbling along his head, behind the ears and under the jaw, places he had a hard time reaching—it took a lot of effort to keep his foot from thumping in happiness because _ooh that hit the spot_ —

Blinked up at it when it gently tipped his head up—this—this wasn’t it, was it? When he realized he made an error in judgement…except it was still giving off happy vibes, no hunting-fighting-killing vibes, not even the tight tension of earlier. It, at least, was a bit quicker to trust than he was.

And then it said something in that not-dragon language, that sounded so very much like he ought to be able to understand it if he just listened hard enough.

“Hiro.”

It was something he was inclined to think meant _friend_ , as the afternoon wore on—it kept addressing him with that word, as he wandered around again, bringing more sticks and occasionally sitting with it next to the tamed fire. It definitely meant something to it, to keep addressing him as such.

It was looking up at where the sun was touching the edge of the cliff face—the only part of the cove the sun was still touching—when it occurred to him that it might have intended that word as a name.

His ears flipped forward at that thought—dragons had nest-names and glory-names; the first were names given at hatching, to tell one apart from the other (like Third-in-a-Clutch-of-Twelve, which was a mouthful but not exactly something they could shorten, since there were a _lot_ of Thirds). The second, the glory-names, were earned—either in battle or through some other feat. Flew-Closest-to-the-Sun, for example, the Flightmare that flew so high that he ran out of air and plummeted back down and had to be saved by Catching-Flightmare, a Zippleback that managed to be in the right place and right time.

Flew-Closest-to-the-Sun also reported a curve to the earth when he had come to, which was interesting but neither here nor there.

Little-Brother, still with his nest-name, had yet to earn a glory-name (although now he was daydreaming about being called Yokai-Tamer). So…why was it calling him a name? Did Yokai routinely gift names, like how Older-Brother had named Honeysuckle? Was that how they did it?

…Come to think of it, what was _this_ Yokai’s name?

He sat up, trying not to be abrupt about it, sidled a little closer to the Yokai.

“What, Hiro?” it asked—tone went up at the end, definitely a question. Okay, how to do this….

He put a paw to his chest. _“Hiro,”_ he said, trying the word it kept saying. _“Hiurrr-uh,”_ he tried again, trying to make it sound less like Dragonese and more like…he didn’t know. Yokainese. Pat his chest again. _“Hiro.”_

Pat the Yokai’s chest, near the shoulder—easy to do, since it was still reclining against a rock to better absorb the fire-heat.

Pat his own chest again. _“Hiro.”_ Pat its chest, say nothing. Pat his chest again. _“Hiro.”_

This went on for a minute, until he started wondering if it was expecting a gift-name in return.

Something finally clicked behind those eyes though.

It tapped itself on its chest. “Obake.” Point at him. “Hiro.” Back to itself. “Obake. Is that what you’re after?”

_Obake_ had been the noise repeated, both times when it indicated itself. So it already had a name—he wondered if someone else had gifted it to him.

Paw on its chest. _“Obake.”_ Paw to his own. “ _Hiro.”_ Nod, try to imitate its earlier expression, when it had been happy—glance up to see the sun was no longer touching any part of the cove.

He curled up next to the Yokai—Obake, he supposed—side against his long thin legs, not sturdy and just the right length like dragon legs. The Yokai was cool, kind of like Healing-Talons, but in a different way, like a Nightmare that was starting to lose its fire and needed to get stoked again. He wondered if the Yokai was needing that sort of help, and _that_ was why he had been so desperate as to shoot Little-Brother down.

Hiro…he kind of liked it.

The drowsy content feeling finally overrode any caution he had left—his eyes slid shut, head shifting a little—start awake a little at the feeling of groom-nibbling at his head again, drift back off.

_I know you’re coming for me, big brother—but don’t worry._

_I can hang on a little longer._

Older-Brother was beyond furious, beyond sick—if it weren’t for the fact he hadn’t eaten anything, he was certain _some_ poor sap would have ended up with a half-digested fish on his head.

Mountain-King was not letting any flights go out.

Oh sure, he _said_ it was because of dragon hunters in the area—but he was certainly fine with sending them to Yokai! Yokai, the island where his brother had been shot down, was still there waiting and hoping for him to come and save him—

If he were even still alive.

Older-Light-Fury had been sick when he told her what happened, was currently lying on a chunk of ice after screaming her anguish—she was their dam’s clutchmate, had raised them when their parents had been shot down by some grisly hunter. She was also currently chewing on a chunk of ice, and it was enough to make him wince at the idea that he had caused stress-eating.

But now….

Now Little-Brother was still off, by himself, probably injured, definitely alone and scared, on an island filled with the most dangerous not-dragons in existence.

And him, grounded.

He hated it, tried to rebel—but the Mountain-King’s will was strongly layered over his own—he couldn’t openly disobey it.

Although….

A day or two might see him slacking off, and Older-Brother was certain his fervor would not have died…sneak out then….

But he had to be sure he wasn’t seen.

Glance back at Older-Light-Fury, still gnawing at the chunk of ice in the absence of real food, glittering white scales heaving—

White scales that….

Older-Brother bounded through the nest, searching for the other Light Fury within—found her eventually, ushered her into an abandoned cave, made sure it was abandoned and that there were no eavesdroppers.

_“We’re going after Little-Brother,”_ he told her, once he was assured they were alone.

Honeysuckle immediately glanced in the direction of the main cavern, where Mountain-King reclined.

_“I know—but he can’t keep us here forever,”_ he said, waving a paw. _“We have to be ready to go when we can, and we have to be sure we’re not seen.”_

_“I don’t know,”_ Honeysuckle said, voice quiet; he paced closer so they could keep the conversation muted. _“I guess if we go at night—you’d blend in, but I’d stick out—I’d have to do my scales—”_

_“Exactly. Honeysuckle, I need you to do me a favor._

_“I need you to teach me how to hide my scales.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s so many different fanon approaches to dragon names that I’m almost certain the idea of nest-names and gift-names came from somewhere. In the meantime though, yay! Names! :D


	5. Restless Nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5, everybody! Progress is being made, I swear….
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney  
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks

Obake did eventually have to go back to the village, if only because he needed to sleep in a real bed. On his to-do list, _bring a sleeping roll next time._

Also on his to-do list: figure out what to do about a clingy dragon.

Said dragon had gone from completely skittish to biting on the hem of his coat and digging its heels in to keep him from leaving—he had eventually had to slough his coat off and flip it over the dragon, which had distracted it enough for him to get to the crevasse leading out.

“You. Stay. Put,” he told it, pointing—consider it to see if his point had gone across. “Here,” he clarified. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” Hopefully—it depended on if Callaghan was in a fine mood, which was always dicey anymore.

The dragon whimpered before burrowing under his coat. Well! At least he was fairly certain it’d stay still. Pull the bark back into place, and begin the _fun_ task of finding his way through the woods in early evening.

Also probably ought to think about finding the crossbow and knife he had left in the woods, he reflected as he picked his way through the undergrowth. Also, pick up the pace because the woods in the evening at this time of year were _cold_ —pull the sleeves he had rolled up out of habit back down, rub at his arms…ugh, just get home, collapse into bed. He was bone-tired—a sleepless night two days ago and then uncomfortable sleep last night saw him as the walking dead tonight; he had plans to collapse face-first into his bed and not get up until something happened, like a Gronkle falling through the roof.

Stars were hanging in the sky before he finally stumbled out of the woods—he paused on the incline, looking over the faintly glittering outline of Yokai. Half the population leaving and then never building back up, losing more to battles—maybe a third of the village was actually populated and lit, and that was pushing it. A smattering here, a smattering there, biggest cluster around the hall where Callaghan lived—

And then Obake’s house.

His house was the closest to the forest, up on a hill, away from the village proper by a good fifty feet, if one were measuring and counting the slope. It was a better target for dragons, sure, but he was relatively assured of spotting any unwanted visitors and ducking out the back before they arrived—as he was usually wont to do.

Unfortunately, consistently staying in one house (whose previous occupants he didn’t remember) instead of crashing wherever like some of the others preferred meant that he was easy to find—so he really shouldn’t have been surprised to see that he had company.

That didn’t stop him from jerking in surprise at the sight of Momakase sitting at his table—mostly out of reflex, in case she decided a knife through him was a good idea.

Currently, Momakase seemed more inclined to toy with said knife, with the tip buried in the table, idly turning it as she glanced up.

“Well,” she said finally. “It’s about _time_ you showed up.”

“I’m sorry?” he tried. He was really too exhausted to be dealing with her right now.

“You should be. And after I made you dinner, too.”

“What do you want?” he sighed.

“What? Can’t I do something nice?”

He very dearly hoped his glower was repressive enough—Momakase never did something out of the goodness of her heart: she either wanted something or had been bribed.

She shrugged, acquiescing the unspoken point. “It was Carl’s idea. I just went along with it because I, like everyone else, want to know where you’ve been.”

“Wandering on the path of life. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Oh, I’d _love_ to hear you tell that to Callaghan when he gets back.”

He tipped his head at her comment, interest piqued despite himself. “Back?”

“Oh yeah, left to go try and find one of those dragon nests again, maybe raid a few settlements on the way there and back—he was _going_ to bring you along, too. Except, you know, you were nowhere to be found. Boy was _he_ not happy with you—you’d better hope raiding puts him in a finer mood.”

Raiding never put him in a finer mood. “Do I dare ask who he left in charge?” he asked, resting a hand on the table to brace himself.

“Yama.”

He dropped his head, teeth gritted to keep his muted curse silent. Yama was a good attack dog, he’d give him that—Yama was also an idiot when it came to something nuanced or with more than one moving part, like running a village.

“Yeah, it’s like that,” she said, nudging the plate of sushi over to him—some of his favorites, not that he thought she noticed things like that. That sort of fine detail was more Carl’s line of work.

Felony Carl—now there’s the guy he personally would have left in charge, had it been up to him.

“Didn’t get a decent answer, by the way,” she continued.

“And you’re probably not going to,” he told her, lifting his head—and then lifting it a bit more to avoid the knife tip pointing at his neck. “No, scratch that—definitely not going to now.”

“You owe me.”

“Oh I’d _love_ to hear _this_ explained.”

“Let’s start with the number of times I’ve saved your skinny little life, move on to how many times you’d probably starve to death in that forge of yours.”

“I’m sure you’re more interested in your kill count than saving anyone, and how many times did you do that _without_ Carl telling you to?”

He had straightened up, she had stood to follow and keep the knife on him. “Details. Now seriously, _where have you been?”_

Maybe a partial truth. “I thought I saw a dragon go down off Akatori Point. I wanted to make sure.”

“Seriously? _That’s_ what you risk angering Callaghan for?”

“Excuse me for thinking that I didn’t rate high enough on his consideration. Now if you don’t mind—”

“And your coat is _where?”_

On a dragon right now. “My _door_ is right over _there_.”

She finally took the knife away from his throat, fortunately, expression scowling. “Fine, but this isn’t over.”

“I can’t _wait,”_ he said, watching her go out of the corner of his eye. Wait a few minutes to make sure she was gone…look at the food she had left….

Take it over to the fire and toss it inside.

Not that he didn’t appreciate the gesture, but Momakase had a habit of purposefully including the poisonous parts of the fish, leaving a person paralyzed while she robbed them blind. Him, he was sure, would get to be pestered until he gave up what he was really doing—probably with knives.

And he didn’t want to risk leaving the dragon alone for too long—there was a very real chance it could escape, wander off somewhere—and wouldn’t _that_ just be great, someone finding a dragon with a very obviously human-made bandage on it. No, for his plan to work, that dragon had to be trained, and it had to be trained to answer to him and him _only_.

But he’d worry about that later—right now he had a bed that was missing him dearly, and a body that was desperately wanting to get in it, even if his mind refused to stop buzzing. It was a curse, he decided, dragging himself up the steps and to the loft. That, and the decision to have the bed upstairs instead of right by the door so he could just flop direct into it.

But reach it he did, finally, not even bothering to take his boots off—just collapse into it, bone-tired, exhaustion finally silencing his active mind.

Tomorrow…he had much too much to do tomorrow.

Older-Brother was not pleased with his progress so far.

_“You’ve got to stop,”_ Honeysuckle said, putting her paws on his chest when he reared up to roar in frustration. _“You’re not going to get this in one night. It works all right for me because that’s my species—we have to be able to hide quickly. Night Furies are a little different—you can already hide all right, you have extra firepower—you just need to be patient.”_

_“Honeysuckle, I don’t have time to be patient,” _ Older-Brother said, disentangling himself and pacing away. _“Right now, Little-Brother is out there and he’s alone and he’s scared and he needs me. I can’t just—nngh—I need to be able to do this—I need to be able to get to him with no one seeing.”_

She came up to him, layered a wing over him, leaned against him. _“I know. But he needs you at full strength. You have to breathe—breathe with me.”_

He took a deep breath, in time with her, let it out in a controlled hiss.

_“I have to save him, Honeysuckle,”_ he told her, emotion choking him.

_“I know,”_ she said, resting her head against his. “ _But you don’t have to do it alone.”_

_“Not while you still have friends.”_

They looked over to see Swift-Strike striding over, shaking out her spikes as the others followed her onto the beach. Greenscales and Healing-Talons came over and rested against him, Blue-Firescales running around them until he skidded to a halt, sending sand everywhere.

_“I. LOVE. This plan,”_ he told them, wriggling in his excitement.

_“I figured out what you were doing a couple of hours ago,”_ Swift-Strike told them. _“So I went and got the others. Now how are we going to do this?”_

Older-Brother blinked at them, not quite processing what she was saying. _“What do you mean?”_

_“We’re obviously going and getting Little-Brother back—now how are we going to do this?”_

Older-Brother exchanged glances with Honeysuckle, his confusion meeting her overwhelming hope.

_“We can do this,”_ she told him. _“Together.”_

_“Yeah—but not to be the negative one, just how?”_ Greenscales asked. _“I mean, Mountain-King is still saying no, and it’s not like we can go against that.”_

_“We can if we want to badly enough,”_ Older-Brother told him. _“And he can’t keep it up forever.”_

_“Three days is his average minimum,”_ Healing-Talons announced.

_“So there. We can do this—in three days, we’re getting Little-Brother.”_

_No matter what it takes,_ he assured himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obake quotes Kakashi from Naruto at one point—Kakashi is notoriously late for meeting with his team and that one particular excuse just stuck with me. XD


	6. The Broken Wing of Icarus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Look who's digging their own grave_  
>  That is what they all say  
> You'll think yourself to death...." 
> 
> \--"Icarus" by Bastille

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5, everybody! Stay safe, friends, and clean your scrapes better than Obake does.
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney  
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks

Obake woke up with the feeling that he had slept in and no real desire to change that status. Whatever was out there could wait, the bed was comfortable, he had warmed up a nice spot with his negligible body heat, moving would lose that heat and he did not want to lose it he was comfortable darn it—

But unfortunately for him, once his mind decided he was awake there was nothing he could do about it—already mentally tallying everything he had to get done today, straightening up the forge, restocking his kitchen if he could, trying some new designs that would not be ignored, preparing for the next raid…he was forgetting something, what….

He catapulted up, all drowsiness forgotten, ice water dousing his blood.

The dragon!

Vault out of bed, mildly glad he hadn’t bothered with even his shoes last night, run to the window to check how late in the day it was—still before noon, he hadn’t slept in _too_ badly—run down the steps as fast as he could without tripping and breaking something, head for the forge using his usual _I want to avoid people_ route.

His mind was already in its usual overdrive once he reached the forge and started straightening it up—someone had come in and made a halfhearted attempt, but this was _his_ space, he knew what went where here—simple design for the wing splint, something it couldn’t chew through like it seemed tempted to do with the current one—maybe something like a cape to keep it distracted from the injury, give it something else to gnaw on—and then get some fish, the ones in the pond in the cove wouldn’t last forever—

Had the design finished and packed away in a bundle, hastily tamped down the forge, grab the bundle and run—bounce off a wall someone had put up where a door used to be.

…No, he realized, flat on the floor and blinking up owlishly as he dragged himself back to the here and now—he had run into Felony Carl.

Carl, meanwhile, was looking down at him, holding up a basket. “I saw the forge going, figured you hadn’t eaten. Breakfast?”

Seriously? Did he look like he had time for breakfast—

There might be fish in there.

“Yeah sure fine,” he said, scrambling up and taking the basket—Carl didn’t let go.

“Momakase said you spent the last couple of days in the woods,” Carl said.

“And you became my mother _when?”_

Carl shrugged, let go—Obake glared at him until he stepped aside, letting him take off at a briskish pace.

“What happened to your coat?” Carl asked.

“Again, none of your business!”

Glance back to see Carl shrug and move on—frequent glances behind afterwards to make sure he wasn’t being followed….

And then kicking it into high gear as soon as he hit the woods.

His heart refused to beat in the right order on the way to the cove, stuttering and tripping over itself as it tried to infect the rest of him with blind panic—his mind was being no help whatsoever, suggesting the various ways things had gone so very wrong while he was gone—he wouldn’t be calm until he was actually in the cove, looking at the dragon, he realized.

_If it was still there. If it hadn’t died in the middle of the night there could have been some unseen damage some bruising that didn’t show up on those black scales it could have died of internal bleeding and your clever schemes and half-baked ideas are about to come back and bite you—_

Reach the cove entrance, turn sideways as he slipped through, hugging the bundle to his chest and holding the basket behind him—the bark was still there, undamaged, there was hope—

Shoulder the bark out of the way—it landed with a thump, barely noted as he scanned the cove.

And scanned it again.

Empty.

No. _Nononono it had to be here don’t panic yet—_

“Hello?” he called, stepping in, to the side, keeping his back to the rocky cliff face. Glance up—didn’t see it anywhere on the walls. “Hello? Hiro?”

A little whine—he looked to see green eyes peeking out from a dark hiding space, realized that the dragon and his coat were in the lee of a leaning boulder.

“There you are,” he sighed, unable to control the sag or expression of relief. Put the basket down, lift the bark back into place—“Come here, I have something for you.”

Again with the whine.

“You’re not stuck, are you?” he asked, eyebrow raised. He hoped not—it wasn’t like he was like some of the others under Callaghan’s control; comparatively, the only one in the village who was more of a fishbone than he was was Dibs.

The dragon shifted a little…finally minced out where he could see it properly, his coat sloughing off of it as it came.

And revealing the fact that it had chewed through its splint, wing now trailing uselessly as it tried to keep the bones from grinding against each other.

Another sigh, this one _not_ of relief. “Yes, well, I expected this. Might as well do that first.”

Bring the basket with him, remind himself after the first few brisk strides that he was going to have to be _easy_ with the dragon, considering it started backing up at his approach. Get down on his knees, roll out the new splint, tug the basket over and look inside.

“Ah- _ha,”_ he noised triumphantly, spotting the oil wraps nestled next to a few tubers—those would be fine, he figured, despite his stomach reminding him he hadn’t eaten since lunch (he had gone longer without eating, he countered back); the fish were a priority for the dragon, at least to keep it distracted while he put the new splint on.

Said dragon was currently sniffing at the new splint, gingerly shifting its weight to cautiously poke a paw at some part of it. Obake unwrapped a fish, hooked it in the gills, pulled it out. “Oh Hiro?”

The dragon looked up at his voice—perked up so fast at the sight of the fish that it winced at its jostled wing.

“Yes, well, that’s why you need to be over here,” he told the dragon. It tilted its head, prompting him to point at the ground in front of him. “ _Here,_ Hiro.”

Now its head was tilting the other way, nostrils twitching, back feet shuffling. Ah, but he probably freshly smelled of the village. Plan, need a plan—

Back up a little before gingerly getting to his feet, trying to stay low and unassuming—not working, those ear flaps and nubs went flat as it flinched away—mince over to where his coat was, put the fish down, pick up his coat, shrug it back on.

A coat that hopefully smelled like dragon to the little creature.

Ears and nubs up and out, head perked as he came back over with the fish to kneel in his original position—his coat was faintly warm from the dragon, felt nice after having cold air nipping through his sweater since last night; his cold tolerance had never been high, was negligible at best after that dragon attack so long ago, that had nearly killed him.

And now, here he was, trying to coax a dragon into letting him _fix it._ Tie him to the mast and ship him off, he was certifiable.

The dragon, meanwhile, was still staring at him, wide-eyed—gingerly padded forward, wincing when it jostled its wing…ignored the fish in favor of sniffing at his arm. He leaned back a little as it came closer and sniffed at his chest and coat, regretting not getting something to defend himself with if his plan went south—which, to be fair, he had been expecting since he first formed it.

And now it was sitting in front of him, looking him in the eye, pupils wide as it warbled something that sounded confused.

“Yes, well I’m sure _dragons_ have no concept of modesty, but _people_ do prefer their clothes to be on themselves and not dragons,” he informed it—especially when he had the sneaking suspicion that the dragon would have been fine without the coat while _he_ had a deep chill still worrying at his bones. And since it didn’t seem interested in the fish, he dropped it off to the side and picked up the first piece of the splint. “Now hold still.”

What a laugh—he had to finally turn every piece over for its examination, show it how it went together, explaining the whole process. Not that he thought it _understood_ him, but hopefully a steady stream of noise from him would calm it down enough for him to work. It worked, somewhat, considering it was starting to get more interested in the fish he had put aside.

He put the little bar down, picked the fish up—the dragon followed the fish—pointed with his free hand. “Lie down.” This would be a lot easier if he could minimize pressure on the wing while he worked.

The dragon tipped its head at him. Ugh, how to do this…he had heard of people training dogs, but he didn’t think applying pressure would be welcome—think alternatives.

_Sit_ should probably come before _lie down,_ but he didn’t want to spend however long it took teaching this dragon how to sit while its wing bone was still misaligned. Move his hand from where he was pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes squinched shut like he usually did when faced with a problem that promised to be headache-inducing—saw the dragon watching him still.

Okay, maybe this would work—gingerly stand, pace around a bit, arms slightly out while he watched the dragon, who was watching him with something approaching concern; come back to where he was, sat down while saying _“Sit.”_ Point at the dragon, then down. _“Sit,_ Hiro.” Repeat the process when it got no more results than a confused-looking dragon.

Said dragon finally looked at its own shuffling paws, gingerly lowered its back end down before finally sitting down.

_“Very_ good,” he said, putting the fish in front of it—the dragon immediately snapped it up, swallowed it, made to stand—froze when he made a negative noise, watched as he pulled out the next fish.

“There’s only two left—you get one when you lay down, one when I’m done with the splint.” Blank look—ah, yes, right, he was trying to explain something to an animal. “Lay down.”

It took another sun mark for him to actually _get_ the dragon to lay down, and by then his stomach was starting to gnaw on itself—get the splint done, then you can eat.

He was having to continually put his hand on the dragon’s back while he worked, having to tell it to _lie still_ , working as fast as he could without slipping up and somehow making it worse—fortunately, Carl had seen fit to pack salve too, so he was able to _maybe_ numb the area before getting to work.

It was still slow going.

“There,” he sighed finally, buttoning the little cape before tying it to make doubly certain. “All set.”

The dragon looked at itself, back at him—sniffed at the cape. Maybe he should have used dragon hide instead of animal skins, but he wasn’t certain how it would react to the scent of another dragon species—

It stopped chewing at the bindings at his sharp negative noise—so maybe he could train it to leave said bindings alone. On the positive side, the part of the splint holding the wingbones together were metal, so no amount of gnawing was going to get through _that_.

Give it the last fish, go gather some fresh sticks to restart the fire—was going to have to wait until there was a good bed of coals to start on…dinner, dear me. Check through the rest of the basket…no luck, just have to wait again. Well, at least he had another pack filled with something approaching sensible items, although he’d have to be either going back to the village to get something to eat or rooting out something for himself out here. Considering how stripped bare the island was of resources, he sensed he was going to have to go for the former.

The dragon warbled at him as he pulled his notebook out.

“So the logistics of this scheme are a bit more convoluted than I had initially hoped,” he told it. “At some point, we’re going to have to fix that.” We— _ha!_ Since when did _he_ do anything with anyone. He had learned long ago that the only person you could rely on was yourself—and even _that_ was spotty.

_And whose fault was that?_

He sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose, got to work scribbling down what he had done so far—and then because the dragon was actually sitting still next to the fire, a sketch of it. He had moved on to listing what he needed to get and do before there was enough coals in the fire to cook the tubers, and then he had to break to get more wood—tuck the notebook into an inside pocket, get up, start pacing over to that little grove—starting to get picked bare, add _bring wood in_ to his list—

_Hrfff._

He looked in surprise to see the little dragon had followed him.

“Well!” he said, before he could stop himself—so this was working already! Or maybe it was expecting more fish. “I don’t have anything else for you, you’re going to have to wait until tomorrow.”

“Hrffhrbble,” the dragon huffed at him.

He ignored it in favor of picking up deadfall and heading back to the fire, feeding it and poking at the tubers…noting the dragon still watching him, like it was trying to make sense of his actions. Watching the stick too. Hmm….

Not the one he had, since he had no desire to start a wildfire, but one from his little pile—wave it around, watching the dragon watch the stick.

“Fetch,” he said, tossing it away.

The dragon watched the stick go, looked back at him, ears and nubs out.

“We’ll work on that,” he said, going back to poking at dinner, rolling the tubers out this time. Would take a minute before he could eat them without causing himself grievous injury.

And the dragon watching him the whole time—he added an apology for his moment of silence seeing him with an eye slit open again.

“What?” he asked the dragon finally.

It chuffed at him but otherwise didn’t react—still almost burn himself on dinner, might as well write down this new wrinkle.

And another one that had been plaguing him.

_No idea the growth rate on this thing I might have a few months before Callaghan comes back but it might not be enough the wing might be healed by then but it might not be big enough to carry me—_ scrub at his head like he usually did when something stumped him, hiss when in his encounter with some dirt caked in the shorter hair on the side his fingernails scraped at something—

Realize when he brought his hand down that the tips had blood on it.

Gingerly go back to where the pain had spiked, realized that there was a thin scrape there, where it had bled and caked some of his hair with it—now the salve made sense, Carl had spotted that and intended it for him (again, the reason why he would have left _him_ in charge over Yama). Of course, there was the little wrinkle of him having used it all on the _dragon…._ Forget it, he’d had worse.

The dragon huffed again, shuffled closer, sniffing—oh great, blood. Okay, he could go with his first instinct and move away, but the dragon might perceive that as weakness and act accordingly. On the same token, he had no desire to lose any of his body parts, or let the dragon get the taste of human blood, and now its paws were on him and it was sniffing and _oh no erugh—_

“Off of me!” he hissed, pushing it back down. It warbled, tried again—he pushed it back down, pushing it away this time. Sure, that might undo some of his work in getting the dragon trained, but letting it figure out he was a tasty snack would just make that worse.

The dragon backed up, sat down, warbled at him again.

“Don’t give me that look,” he ordered, ignoring the puppy-dog eyes—oh great, so horrendous scaly beasts could make that face. Randomly, he thought that if the dragons had tried that before Callaghan took over, they might have gotten more food than they knew what to do with.

It seemed to be considering him, considered itself—turned a little so its injured wing was better facing him, continually glancing at him…licked the cape—nose wrinkled—looked at him, licked the cape a few more times, looked at him—put a paw to its head before licking the cape again.

He was going to have to remedy his estimations of the dragon’s intelligence if it was doing what he thought it was.

“No,” he said finally. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather _not_ be dealing with a dragon that’s tasted human blood.”

The dragon huffed, minced closer, licked at the cape again, consistently on the side of its injured wing…huffed again when he shifted away, perceived weakness be hanged.

“ _No,_ Hiro.”

The dragon wasn’t buying it, which led to an absurd slow pursuit around the fire, dinner forgotten—he couldn’t go for any violent deterrent, he wanted this thing to _like_ him, but he didn’t want it to like him _that_ much. Finally stand and walk away—bolt back to the fire when it followed, found that half of his dinner had been kicked back into the fire during the scuffle.

“Perfect,” he muttered, along with a few more choice words as he sat down, rubbing at his face. Maybe he was lucky and the wound scabbed over again. Maybe the dragon lost interest.

A lick to the side of his head told him this wasn’t the case.

_“Hey!”_ he barked, tumbling sideways in his haste to get away—the dragon flailed back, tumbled, righted itself with an arched back—great, so that happened—

There was a tense moment, when they were eyeing each other warily….The dragon broke first, sat back, started licking the cape along its broken wing, pausing frequently to look pointedly at Obake.

“No, Hiro,” he repeated. “I have no desire to end up a dragon’s lunch.”

The dragon huffed at him, stood, padded off. Great. And since the rest of his dinner had met the same fate as the other half, he might as well try for some sleep—or at least comfort, since he wasn’t certain about the former with a dragon lurking about.

He was set up and building the fire up when he realized the dragon hadn’t come back yet.

Panic made him check the exit—still solid, not clawed through or under—pace back to the fire, scanning the area…twin dots of light reflected the fire several feet away. So it was still here, just sulking. All right, fine, he could live with that. Go recline against the stone he had used…yesterday. Already it felt like a year. He was going to have gray hair before this was over, he was certain.

The sun had set and it was several hours before he finally dozed off—several hours he had spent keeping an eye on those twin pinpricks. They blinked on occasion, so they were definitely the dragon…maybe it was waiting for a sign of weakness before moving in.

_That_ thought kept him alert for about another hour, enough time to question what on earth he had been thinking, staying here. He had gotten away with this that first night only because it was probably tired and stressed out enough that attacking him was a lower priority than sleep. Tonight, with it well-rested and full, it would be a problem.

What was he doing?

Lean back against the rock, rubbing his face, massaging his temples—this was a stupid idea, this was beyond stupid this was beyond idiocy why didn’t he just tie himself to a mast and save everyone the trouble what was he even thinking _WHY._

…Because if he stayed here much longer, he’d snap. He’d break, he’d scream so loud and long that it ripped him in half—he had ended up in the trap that he thought he had been so clever in avoiding, the limits he had been promised wouldn’t be there had snared him anyway, were choking him so badly he couldn’t breathe. The others under Callaghan were probably happy, sure—you could be happy when you were ignorant of the potential you were wasting, when your mind didn’t spend every second of every day working overtime, filling your skull to bursting and driving you to distraction.

He remembered then, blearily, their old chief Granville telling him the story of Icarus, who flew too close to the sun and fell to his death. He remembered his response—that Icarus failed because he didn’t have the right tools for the job. He remembered her expression, consternated and disappointed that he had missed the moral of the story, that pride and arrogance and willful ignorance was more to blame than feathers set in wax.

Perhaps, currently, he was exhibiting all three of those traits right about now—pride dictating that he _could_ tame a dragon, arrogance stating that he _would_ tame a dragon, willful ignorance making him ignore the question of whether he _should_ tame a dragon.

He didn’t care—he had an out now, no matter how slim, and the knowledge of that was its own pain. He could get out, get away from here, and the knowledge of that chance suddenly made everything sandpaper scraping at his nerves, cracking his bones and twisting his insides. Or maybe that cut was infected, he was getting brain poisoning, and the whole thing would be moot in a few days anyway.

Either way, the idea of continuing to stay here, to spend the rest of his life under Callaghan’s rule, made his throat close up and choke him—he was going to get out of here, get out from under Callaghan’s thumb, or die trying.

Something rough and wet suddenly scraped against the side of his head.

_“Hey!”_ he barked, flailing sideways—the dragon bounced away, back arched as it watched him warily. “I thought we were over this, Hiro.”

The dragon gave him a stern glare before pointedly marching over—Obake put a hand flat on its head, holding it at arm’s length.

“I said _no,_ Hiro,” he said sternly, arm trembling from trying to keep it at bay—even that small, and it was already stronger than him (although to be fair, that didn’t take much effort).

That green-eyed glare brought another memory up, easy to do when he had been busy stirring the dust of the past—of him having an argument with Granville about the limits she had posed _yet again_ —

_What good are limits when they keep you from your full potential? What good is the word ‘no’ except as another limitation?_

Except this wasn’t some kid frustrated at being turned away again—this was a wild animal, and he could very clearly see the end result of letting it do what it wanted.

And he hated the fact that that meant he was forced to see his youth from Granville’s point of view, to see her point.

He finally relaxed his arm, let the dragon come close, but kept his hand on its head to keep it from rearing up.

“I can take care of myself, _thank you,”_ he said sternly, mentally trying to shred the frustration stirring up those old ghosts had caused. It was pointless to apply human logic and reasoning to an animal, they needed clear instructions without the opportunity for nuance.

The dragon sighed, leaned against him, rubbed its head against his chest before curling up against his side.

He considered it for the longest time…kept his hand rested on its broad head, arm along the spines on its back. Maybe this could work. Maybe he could pull this off—he just had to be patient.

He just had to execute enough common sense to keep his distance from the sun, at least until he had this figured out.

_That_ , he felt, was Icarus’ true failing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obake actually does cite the story of Icarus in canon, so it makes sense he’s aware of it here. As for his relationship with Granville in this AU…it’s a little different.
> 
> Also Felony Carl is the best character after Obake fite me.


	7. Caring for the Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7, everybody! In which our boys question each other’s abilities to survive long-term….
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney  
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks

Little-Brother was _very_ frustrated with this so far.

_Be patient,_ he told himself. _Like everyone tells you about hunting. It’s only been…what, a day? Two days? It’s falling asleep next to you, that’s a start. It also has you pinned, so…._

He had to use his head and think things through, like Older-Brother told him— _daah he missed Older-Brother_ —this was a very big deal, trying to train a Yokai. It wasn’t like teaching a Nadder how to fling spikes, or learning how to fly or hunt—this was uncharted territory, no one had ever done this, no one thought it _could_ be done.

He felt the limb pinning him slowly relax, could hear its breathing even…waited…waited…patience….

When he felt it fully relax, he carefully sat up, tilted his body so the limb slid off onto the Yokai, scuttled away and tucked his tail in when he turned around—asleep. Totally asleep.

Good, he reflected, sitting down to watch it. Now, what have we learned so far, Yokai-Tamer? What will you tell the rest of the flight when they ask you using that glory-name?

Yokai with ghost-faces have qualms about killing younglings. They will give fish for the darndest things (a fish for just sitting? Incredible—or as Older-Brother would put it, _unbelievable_ ). They will wrap broken wings up in animal hide and the same stuff their claws are made of—thank goodness it was animal hide though; he wasn’t sure if he could keep this up if it had used dragon hide.

Speaking of—a Yokai’s black hide was not, in fact, made of dragon hide, despite smelling of old spilled blood. Matter of fact—if it was asleep he could test this—sniff it up and down, carefully, gingerly, always keeping one eye on its face…it smelled freshly of old dragon blood, but the only portions that smelled of dragon hide were near the base of the torso where wings would tether above hips and on the back feet. Maybe that was a not-true true-story, like there being such a thing as a dragon that could change into a not-dragon and vice-versa. Its black hide was most definitely not a dragon hide it had stolen.

But that! Now _that_ was a new wrinkle—flipping the black hide off with ease to tangle Little-Brother up so it could escape, like how a lizard cut off its own tail or some birds loosed their feathers to make a getaway. He had been quite interested in sniffing at the hide, wondering how long it would take for a new one to grow back, or if it was off to steal a fresh one _oh please don’t steal his—_

Instead, when it came back, smelling freshly of stale old blood, it picked up its old hide and shrugged it back on, going from looking like a not-dragon to an unmistakable Yokai.

Talk about fascinating—this was like how Changewings could change colors, only different. This would change how they handled raids on not-dragon nests, if there was a possibility that a Yokai was hiding in the midst like a dragonbite viper coiled in sweetgrass. If that were the case, they would have to be sure to plan accordingly.

And he had to remind himself that he only had this one raid to go by, it was too early to agree with his brother and their friends about how stupid it was to raid not-dragon nests because Mountain-King was too lazy to go fishing and too much of a jerk to let them go and feed themselves.

Shook his head, ears and flaps slapping against his neck—don’t think like that, because if you thought it then you said it, and if you said it where Mountain-King could hear you were a snack. Focus on the big picture.

Okay—Yokai could shed and pull back on the hides they stole—and this was definitely a stolen hide, it didn’t smell like the Yokai like Little-Brother’s wing would smell like Little-Brother. Well, it _did,_ but like how Little-Brother’s favorite sleeping spot smelled like Little-Brother.

And it wasn’t just the stolen hide—most of the Yokai seemed wrapped up in hides, although in some cases he couldn’t even _begin_ to guess what animals they were from. He wondered if the Yokai wore these to protect its skin—which didn’t seem capable of taking hard hits, he thought, looking it over critically, noting the grayish cast. Still not healthy.

And then a glare at the scratch just under the crest—no wonder it wasn’t healthy, if it barely ate and wouldn’t take care of its own wounds. Were all Yokai like this? They had to eat, _something_ had to happen to the dragons that were shot down, and it was certainly not getting wrapped up and fed.

But leaving a wound unattended wasn’t smart. Neither was denying having it tended, he thought with a huff—how did Yokai take down dragons if they couldn’t even do something as basic as taking care of themselves?

Sniff, watch the Yokai carefully…breathing even…ish. Was most likely sleeping. Inch closer…closer…definitely sleeping. And if Little-Brother was going to train a Yokai, he had to make sure said Yokai didn’t die on him from something easily fixable. Gingerly put his paws on the rock, get himself braced, lean as close as he could without touching, holding his breath—

He had his tongue out and almost touching when the Yokai said “As if life wasn’t short enough.”

Little-Brother huffed right in the Yokai’s ear, causing it to startle sideways and making him bound away in alarm before he realized he was being stupid. It wasn’t like—

He froze, tipped his head as he evaluated the Yokai, patting itself down and glaring at him.

It was skittish, he realized—more so than you would reasonably expect an apex predator to be. Sure, it was because Little-Brother was OBVIOUSLY very terrifying—he was a Night Fury, after all—but…you know, young dragon, barely fledged, one wing broken. Versus a Yokai who looked like the only thing wrong with him was that scratch on his head, and the only problem with that was that he wasn’t taking care of it.

He was missing something…but what?

Huff in the meantime. _“You’re such an idiot,”_ he scolded. _“Fine though—get blood poisoning and DIE, see if I care.”_ No wait he _did_ care, the fish in the cove wouldn’t last forever and what about his wing and what it was bound in a downed dragon was a dead dragon everyone knew this and this meant that _his_ health was linked to the Yokai’s health and just UGH.

“I think I liked you better when you were scared witless,” the Yokai countered, sounding belligerent.

Little-Brother turned around, scuffed his paws and flicked his tail in dismissal, stalked away to find somewhere else to sleep where stupid Yokai couldn’t get to him.

That didn’t last long though—because shortly after curling up in a little crevice and dozing off, he jerked awake, almost hearing Older-Brother going _found you_ and teasing him for picking an obvious hiding spot _no challenge at all I swear—_

He missed Older-Brother.

Actually he missed everybody—well, not _everybody_ , just those in his immediate wing—but Older-Brother was called that for a _reason_. Older-Light-Fury may have raised them, but Older-Brother was the one who was always on his tail, pouncing on it and pinning him whenever he was about to go do something monumentally stupid. He wondered what he’d say about this.

Actually, he had a good idea: _Unbelievable—are you INSANE? You can’t train a Yokai NO you can’t keep it I don’t care if it followed you home that THING is a KILLING MACHINE just WAIT until you fall asleep and NO, I will NOT save your sorry hide when it steals it. _The Yokai wouldn’t have gotten within ten feet of him if Older-Brother had been there.

That would have still left him with the problem of being a downed dragon—and they would have _both_ been dead because Older-Brother would never go and leave him like this.

Where was he?

Little-Brother already knew the answer, could feel it in his bones—Older-Brother was stubborn, but even he couldn’t defy the orders of Mountain-King. He’d have to wait—try to hold out until Mountain-King relaxed his ruling and sent them out raiding again. Older-Brother would make a beeline right for here, he knew it.

Which meant he’d have to hold out until he came.

It was cold here without the fire, stone soaking up his heat and not reflecting any back. He was used to sharing a space with at least one other dragon, being alone just _stunk_.

Fire was warm.

He huffed, irritated that this was a thing he was going to have to do—held out for a few more minutes before slinking out and padding back over. The Yokai was starting to drift off again—must have heard him, because it looked up when he came close.

“Finally decided to join us, did we?” the Yokai asked drily.

Little-Brother decided to try untangling the mess that was Yokainese later. _“Don’t make anything of this, it was just cold over there,”_ he groused, moving a paw in a negative motion before flopping down next to the fire.

The Yokai snorted, sounding amused—rolled over and looked like it was trying to go back to sleep.

Little-Brother waited several long moments, tracking a little nightjar through the woods, before getting up and sneaking over to the Yokai. _Seemed_ asleep…sniff to see if it reacted to the noise.

“Try it one more time and I go with my original plan of making you a coat,” the Yokai muttered darkly.

Again, it was a garbled mess of noise, but the intent was clear—Little-Brother padded back over to the fire, settled down, curled up so he could glare at the Yokai.

Jerk.

Obake had really hoped he could stay _away_ from the village for at least a little bit longer, he really did.

Unfortunately, in his haste to get back here and bandage up the dragon, he hadn’t really picked up any extra supplies. A bedroll, yes, but that didn’t fill any bellies, and now he had two to consider.

Especially if he wanted this plan to work.

There were still issues with getting the dragon to be friendly, still issues with keeping it in the cove, but he was able to slip away again, this time with his coat still on (his pack had to be sacrificed to facilitate this escape).

_Okay,_ he told himself, heading back to the village—mentally tick off everything you were going to need—get in and out quickly because genius you, you decided to go and become the blacksmith because you were desperate to prove your worth and why didn’t you just pick one of the most crucial roles in the village you idiot Yokai you. He was probably looking at a horrendous backlog waiting for him.

That dragon couldn’t get full-grown fast enough.

But there were other benefits to being the blacksmith, he reflected as he slinked through the village; benefits such as being able to work on his ideas as soon as he conceived them, without having to try to explain it to some dimwit. Honestly, the whole mercenary band was full of them, didn’t really recall the old village being any better—superstitious idiots the lot of them, _why_ did he miss them again?

_It’s not them you miss._

He snarled under his breath, kneading his forehead to get the thought out of his head—no, no, he would have never gotten that even if he had gone with them, there was no use pining after what never could have been. Everything he had tried to impress _her_ had never been enough, he was doomed to being kept at arms’ length and treated with aloofness, saddled with _limits_.

He’d be better off on his own.

Slip into his forge, mentally go over everything, get things started and get a few basic molds filled up and fixed up to keep people off his back—

And while that was going, get started on some of his prototypes.

Flip through the sketches he had done—he was pretty sure the dragon wouldn’t drastically change shape as it grew; he could test out saddle designs on it now, find out which one worked the best without wasting so much leather. Leather was at a premium.

Actually, everything was—the price of living an unsustainable life, like a swarm of vicious locusts.

How far would it take to get away from Callaghan’s shadow, he wondered as he worked. And where—should he even waste his time looking for the remnants of his old village? Probably not—probably there wasn’t anything left to find. South then—south to warmer weather, he had always been cold, always possessing of a lower body temperature even before that dragon attack rendered him anemic for the longest time—something that had reinforced his name.

Maybe there were intellectuals to the south. Right. And the moon really was made of green cheese and there was some sort of howling sasquatch on Muirahara Island. He wasn’t an idiot, he didn’t deal in fallacies, he’d probably forever run into idiots, it was an inevitability.

He had everything prepped and bundled up by the time the molds cooled—he’d do the final rendering when he was back in the cove and could make proper measurements against the dragon—measuring tape, he needed to pack that—

After that, it was simply a matter of evading everyone for long enough to get some food and _get out_.

Glance around, skitter to the food stores—okay, deep breath, act like you knew what you were doing and were going to murder anyone who stood in your way. Right.

Having to deal with an idiot whose name he wasn’t even going to dignify with _thinking_ going in helped to cement his resting murder face for the rest of the trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obake’s quoting Hobbes from Calvin and Hobbes, by the way—love that strip. And dragonbite vipers come from Tui T. Suitherland’s Wings of Fire series, which is worth checking out. Meantime, Hiro’s imagine-spot references Mike Wazowski in Monsters, Inc.
> 
> Blacksmiths basically did everything metal in a village, from nails to forks to armor to swords, so yeah, that’s got to be one of the most crucial jobs. The moon being made of green cheese is one of those old sayings, kind of the equivalent of and if you believe that I’ve got oceanfront property in Arizona to sell you. Guinea fowl will loose their feathers in favor of making a getaway, as I found out one day—going from being used to grabbing a chicken by the tail to catch them to a guinea is an experience, let me tell you. D:


	8. How to Train Your Yokai

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8, everybody! And if you ask who’s training who, Hiro and Obake will both say “Me.”
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney  
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks

Little-Brother had been rooting around in the carry-tool the Yokai had left, trying to make sense of it—it smelled of grease and metal and old dragon blood and seemed to be made of the same material as the bindings of his wings—still sniffing at it and questing its dimensions when the Yokai came back.

“Hiro?” it queried, slipping around the bark blocking the exit.

Little-Brother looked back up, interested—thus far whenever the Yokai had come back it had been with food; as near as he could figure, it went hunting when it left.

Why, though? Not that he was complaining, but if Yokai ate dragons and stole hides, why was it bothering with feeding him?

_Maybe your hide’s too small,_ he thought. _Maybe he wants you big for a proper hide to wear._ Not exactly a comforting thought, even with the knowledge that it would take a while for him to grow big enough to cover the Yokai.

The Yokai in question was coming towards him, body language still cautious and not aggressive—he was very proud of himself for not bolting or backing up, despite shuffling a little on his paws.

“So,” the Yokai said, crouching down and unshouldering a fresh carry-tool. “I’m almost certain that _this time_ I can avoid dealing with the village for a while—now I can work on you.”

Little-Brother cocked his head, trying to make sense of the Yokai-sounds—Yokainese, he decided, definitely going to call it Yokainese it sounded enough like a separate language and if he was going to be Yokai-Tamer he needed to have terms for everything all nice and lined up. Now, what to do about a Yokai looking at you but not in a hungry way…well, maybe it _was_ hungry—there was something in the eyes that denoted a deep want, but he didn’t think it was for food. He hoped it wasn’t food.

The Yokai was rooting in the new carry-tool now, saying something that didn’t all quite make sense—something about leather and growth rates and _you’re not going to change shape or anything as you grow, are you?_ Stuff Hiro couldn’t quite untangle.

Flick an ear at himself—not Hiro. That was a gift-name, and he wasn’t sure about the source yet.

“So in the meantime, before prototyping is too much of a drain on resources,” the Yokai continued, pulling something out of the carry-tool and laying it on the ground. “What do you think?”

Little-Brother sniffed at it—leather. Animal leather, not dragon leather. Smelled well-oiled, looked supple—lick—tasted like leather. Look the shape over again, look up at the Yokai, questioning.

Okay, good news: the Yokai wanted to show him what it was.

The bad news: whatever it was, it was supposed to go _on Little-Brother._

That, obviously, wasn’t going to happen, ended with a chase around the cove that ended with a winded Yokai lying near where the tame-fire had died. Huh. So much for being a relentless predator. Pad over, sniffing cautiously—leaned back when it pointed at him.

“You,” it hissed. “Are more trouble than you’re worth. I want you to know that.”

Little-Brother huffed at him. _“I’m not the one trying to put a dragon in a net by paw.”_

Except this most certainly was not a net, this was something he couldn’t figure out, and he wasn’t sure how to get the Yokai to explain it to him. It was all very strange.

On the positive side, the Yokai had also brought _fish_.

On the negative side, the Yokai wasn’t just going to _give_ him the fish.

“Sit,” it ordered. “Sit, Hiro.”

He blinked, tipped his head—this was a thing they had done before—the Yokai wanted him to sit, that much he could get—was surprised when sitting on command once again got him a fish with minimal effort.

New fish once the first was safely in his stomach. “Lie down.”

Again blinking at him, not comprehending— _Lie Down_ was a thing from before, when it was trying to bandage his wing—oh no—if it wrapped him up any tighter he wouldn’t be able to move—was that it? Did Yokai wrap up their prey like Deathsongs or spiders to drain dry later? Wouldn’t _that_ be just great?

The Yokai was insisting on _Lie Down_ —sit, paw at the air in a dismissive fashion—no sir he was _not—_

They Yokai considered the action before snatching his paw.

“Shake,” it said, moving his paw up and down a little before releasing it and putting the fish in front of him.

Little-Brother sat there, too stunned by the sudden grab to be concerned with the fish—that was _not good,_ that could have ended badly, it had just _grabbed him—_

And then given him a fish.

There was something weird going on here, some ulterior motive—he just couldn’t figure out what. Maybe it was trying to get him to drop his guard—get him used to expecting fish for silly little things and then broadside him with an attack? No, that didn’t make sense.

The Yokai was sitting now, fore- and aft-limbs crossed—strange to a dragon’s sensibilities, but he supposed their bodies could move like that—looking him up and down like it too was expecting hostility instead of odd behavior, like it was trying to make sense of this whole thing as well.

“I suppose it’s still a tad early to be trying anything too advanced,” it said finally.

Little-Brother flicked his ears back, up again. Looked down at the fish—

Okay, you know what, he was going to have to figure out at least a _few_ words of Yokainese if they were supposed to be getting anywhere.

Little-Brother looked up, pointed at the fish. _“Fish. Fiiiiish.”_ Wait. _“Come on, seriously—one word, I just need you to say the Yokai word for fish, it’s not that hard. I’ll let you have the fish if you say it.”_

The Yokai didn’t seem impressed. “I’m not giving you any more if you won’t eat that one.”

None of that sounded like it could be _fish_ —definitely wasn’t the noise it made when handling fish _aaargh he should have been paying attention how was he supposed to convince a Yokai of what he wanted—_ ah.

Bound away, bring a small rock over, drop it, bound away to bring back a stick next. This should work.

_“Okay,”_ Little-Brother said, before pointing at the different items in front of him. _“Rock. Fish. Stick. Yokai words for them, go! Come on, super-easy!”_

The Yokai considered it before throwing the stick away. “Fetch.”

_“Is that the Yokai-word for it?”_ Little-Brother asked. Test—this needed testing—bring the stick back, pointed at it. _“Stick.”_

The Yokai seemed pleased, said _very good, Hiro_ —threw the stick again, saying _fetch._ So _fetch_ was Yokai for _stick_. Little-Brother brought it back, rolled the rock forward.

_“Okay, enough with the stick—say rock. This is a rock. Say it.”_

The Yokai considered it for a long moment before giving Little-Brother an even look. “I’m not throwing _that_.”

_“That’s too much to be ‘rock’—just say ‘rock.’ Listen: rock. Super-easy.” _ Maybe he was doing this wrong—the stick worked—flip the stick forward, say _stick_ , bounce back to the rock, do the same thing, say _rock_ —ah. Yokai gave fish when they wanted to reward dragons, right? Maybe it went both ways. Pick up the fish, manage to get out _fish_ around his full mouth, gesture invitingly with the fish before indicating the rock.

Now the Yokai just looked tremendously confused, the dry leaves it was holding starting to slip from its paws. “ _What_ are you even doing?”

Ugh—drop the fish, nudge the rock closer. _“Rock. Say it—come on, I need an idea of what Yokai-language sounds like.”_

The Yokai considered the rock…sighed, picked it up, held it like it was estimating the weight…lobbed it away. “Fetch.”

Little-Brother groaned, paced away—started banging his head against the first available boulder when he couldn’t think of any other way to get an idea of what Yokai-language was supposed to even be and how idiotic this whole thing was started banging away on his head WHY HIM.

_“No ideas, no plan, stupid—useless—BRAIN.”_

He had his eyes closed during this—snapped them open when his next impact made a crackling noise. What—

Tree-smell—the sandy brown leaves the Yokai had been holding. It was holding them between Little-Brother and the boulder, apparently in an attempt to soften the impact.

“Stop that,” it said sternly, giving him a look that was so much like Older-Brother that it hurt. Think—how would Older-Brother play this?

_Try a different angle._

Little-Brother considered the Yokai, looked back at the rock and the stick— _fetch_. The word had been every time used in conjunction with throwing things away. But the Yokai seemed pleased when he brought them back….

_“Okay,”_ Little-Brother said, bounding back to the stick and picking it up—toss his head, flinging it away, look at the Yokai which was looking very confused for a hyper-predator. _“Fetch,”_ he said, running over to the stick and picking it up. Take it over to the Yokai, drop it. “ _Fetch.”_ Go get the rock, bring it over, drop it. _“Fetch. ‘Fetch’ is retrieving something thrown, is that what it means?”_

The Yokai considered him, considered the items at its feet…Little-Brother backed up a little when it crouched down, watched as it picked up the stick, watching him closely before throwing it away.

“Fetch,” it said.

Little-Brother bounded after the stick, brought it back, deposited it in front of the Yokai, feeling pleased at the breakthrough. _“Fetch.”_

“Good boy,” the Yokai said, throwing the stick again. “Fetch.”

Little Brother looked, confused—glanced back at the Yokai—

Okay, from what he could gather from his limited experience, the Yokai was currently very pleased, maybe enjoying itself…was this a game? Did—did Yokai actually _play?_ Maybe this was a training exercise, the way chasing after a parent’s tail was practice for hunting.

Either way, Little-Brother was willing to go along with it for now—especially considering his success thus far. One translation down—that was progress.

Little-Brother brought the stick back, imitated the Yokai’s mouth movement, the one that probably indicated _pleased_.

_“Fetch.”_

So this was actually going better than he had hoped.

The saddle idea was a bust for now, but no matter—the dragon was actually feeling relaxed enough around him to want to play, and seemed to enjoy fetch well enough. At least after it decided that trying to play fetch with a rock most likely wasn’t happening.

Now, with it fed and happy and exhausted, and him finally not having to be at the village for a while, Obake was actually starting to relax a little, picking away at his notes and starting to feel like he could maybe pull this off. Eventually the dragon would become acclimated enough that he could start testing saddle designs on it and…hmm….

He’d have to take it out of this cove eventually—he needed to teach it how to come to him, stick near him if need be, possibly hide if need be…wrote that down, started making a list of other things this dragon would need to know in order for its care to continue to be feasible, that it would need to know if this eventual escape plan was to hold water…count it up…try not to sigh.

Hiro looked at him, lifting his head up but keeping his front paws on a weightier stick that he had pulled from the wood pile and had apparently decided was _his_.

“You’re a logistical nightmare,” Obake decided to inform him. At least he had a backup plan if this all became too much—even a small Night Fury was impressive, was better than _no_ Night Fury ever—

Which meant he really should be sticking to terms like _the dragon_ —couldn’t risk getting attached.

Sigh again—it had started off as a simple enough plan, ended up shaping up to be a typical Obake one: simple on the outside, way too many moving parts once you got involved.

No—he could work this—he was possibly the only one on this or any nearby island who _could_. Unless there was some random Viking out there who got it into their head to train a dragon—Vikings were known for stubbornness issues, were rare marks because of that. But the nearest Viking settlement was way up north on Berk, so with the exception of crossing paths on raiding expeditions, there was really no risk of running into any. Even so….

“When we leave, we’re not heading north,” he told the dragon, who paused in its gnawing of the stick to look at him again—teething, probably, like a dog worrying a bone or similar stick. “South, maybe—south is a good direction. It’s warmer there.”

It was also the best estimation as to the direction the other half of their old tribe had went.

There was a flicker of something that took him a minute to identify as _hope_ —before, tracking down his old tribe had been nothing short of daunting. But looking at this dragon—this dragon whose every line denoted speed, who _had_ to grow bigger—there was a chance that he _could_ —that he could scour the seas in that direction, until he was far past Callaghan’s sphere of influence—that he could actually _find_ his old tribe.

Find _her._

He was getting ahead of himself—he _knew_ he was getting ahead of himself. But that—that was the carrot, the carrot he was dangling in front of himself, telling him to push on with this idiotic scheme.

Conversely, the stick: if anyone, from that lowly idiot whose name he refused to say clear up to Callaghan—if _anyone_ found out about this….

As he saw it, there were two results: one, success; two, painful agonizing failure. He had some wiggle room right now, where he could salvage things if it tipped either way, but that would narrow as time went on.

He’d have to be very, _very_ careful.

“Hopefully no one will be looking for me for a while,” Obake told the dragon, who at least did him the courtesy of lifting an ear to look like it was paying attention. “I did up some of the common repair needs while making the saddle prototype, so that would be the main reason anyone would be hunting for me—most of them will figure I’d rather be off by myself, which isn’t a lie.” Most likely, that he was more strenuously avoiding them—or that he was fruitlessly hunting down a Night Fury, which would probably be the rumor Dibs would spread, since he had heard Obake’s declaration to Carl. Which would lead to the conclusion that he was hiding because he had embarrassed himself by missing out on a raid because he was off on a wild goose chase…ugh, he hated people.

The dragon sat up to look at him, apparently concerned by him flopping straight back on his bed roll—something he really shouldn’t have done, according to his ribs.

“I’ve decided that I’m leaving,” he told the dragon, arms crossed. “Preferably someplace without people—an abandoned island, perhaps. No, that leaves a chance that someone could find me. Ah—an underwater construct. I can engineer it to be watertight, pump air down from above, I’m sure the aquatic dragons are lovely this time of year.” And that people wouldn’t accidentally stumble upon it. “While I’m at it, I’ll make little mechanical sea creatures so I can see if someone’s coming.” And while he was coming up with idiotic ideas: “And devise a means to completely wipe out this island. Perhaps I’ll rebuild on it, create a city from my own designs.”

The way the dragon was looking at him now smacked of concern, with a hearty dash of _oh…kay_ and _are you done saying stupid stuff now?_ Or perhaps he was projecting at this point—either way.

“Yes I’m done,” he sighed, shoving himself back upright. “I just don’t think you quite appreciate how much I need to get off this island.” And in a way he could outrun anyone pursuing him—he was no good with ships, despite thinking that _maybe_ he could figure out a one-man boat…but then what? Even his wildest escape plans always petered out when he gave them some thought, with him being attacked by angry Yokai or terrified villagers or wild animals or dragons—this wasn’t a world you wanted to traverse by yourself.

Not for the first time, he hated himself for not taking up _her_ offer instead.

But it was too late for that, and if wishes were fishes the raiding dragons would be too fat to fly. He just had to plan ahead with what he had.

And if there was one thing Obake was good at, it was making and executing a plan.

Now here was hoping it was a _good_ plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real talk, Obake in this chapter is 100% quoting Tulio from The Road to El Dorado—love that movie. And yes, we are referencing the first How to Train Your Dragon movie and Obake’s lair and plan in the canon series—I saw a moment and I seized it. :D


	9. Raiders of the Missed Opportunity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 9, everybody! In which everyone’s favorite older brother makes a return!
> 
> Also, PSA for subscribers: I updated last week as well when AO3's email notifications were turned off, so if you rely on e-mail updates to alert you there's two new chapters. That is all.
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney  
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks

Obake thought that this was going quite well, was able to avoid going back to the village for at least a couple of days, had plenty of ideas to keep him busy in his forge and away from the assorted idiots in the village, felt a bit more assured of his training of Hiro.

The dragon in question now knew the commands _come, sit, lay down,_ and _fetch_ well enough— _stay_ was still a problem, but for only working a couple of days _well enough_ on four commands was doing pretty good, in his opinion. After all, at the end of the day he _was_ dealing with a wild animal.

And now, he had a working plan for moving forward, he thought.

Unfortunately, that and the end of the fish _did_ mean he had to go back to the village—try to impart the importance of the word _stay_ , finally managed to slip away from the dragon with the promise that he was getting more fish. When in doubt, go for the stomach.

Also unfortunate was his mood the closer he got to the village—there had been something dour hanging over him for years, but now he had a moment, a shining moment of hope sitting there in the cove (hopefully) that made the shackles of his own making that much heavier.

But soon—hopefully soon he’d be free of this place. Free of the stigma of the Yokai and—

“Heyo!”

And all the idiots it encompassed.

“What, taking off without starting up a chat?” the pink-haired idiot who was often in charge of ‘entertainment’ and whose stupid name Obake refused to even _think_ asked. “Unfriendly today, aren’t we?”

Any day ending in Y with this idiot involved.

“So _I_ heard,” the pink-haired idiot continued, apparently oblivious to his resolute ignoring of the inane nattering. “That _you_ have been off hunting a Night Fury. How’s _that_ been going?”

If he really thought Obake would lower himself to responding, he was stupider than first supposed.

“I mean, risking Callaghan’s wrath on a wild goose chase? And then you know Yama’s been looking for you—”

Actually he didn’t, and didn’t really care. Reach the forge—

Finally round on the pink-haired idiot.

“If you don’t _shut up_ I’m going to hang you with your intestines as the rope,” he snarled, before slamming the door in his face. And then close the shutter on the counter for good measure.

He couldn’t escape this place soon enough.

He couldn’t escape this place soon enough.

Little-Brother scanned the skies as the sun dipped down to its nightly nest, hoping for the sound of wingbeats…still nothing. Huff, pace…it was boring here in the cove by himself, and things were dire when he was missing the Yokai’s company.

He missed his brother, he missed his family, he missed his friends…he missed the sky. He missed flying. He had to fly. Flying was important.

The twinging in his wing suggested that he might never have that again.

No. No, no, no, he would _not_ go there, he would fly again _somehow_ ….Sniff at the binding holding his wing in place.

It was strange—on the surface, it seemed that the Yokai had bound his wing to keep him from flying away, but after a day of moving around with it…it was holding his wing in place, keeping the broken bones from grinding against each other or pulling apart, protecting it from the pain of moving around. It was strange, but he could see the sense in it.

He blinked, went back to pacing, focusing on this new thought. So the Yokai could _create_ things, beneficial things, healing things…or maybe it was just _his_ Yokai. This really needed more to compare and contrast…no. Bad idea, a flight of Yokai would happily murder a dragon. For some reason, this one, on its own, was all right, was nice.

Well no, wait, _nice_ was too strong a word. This Yokai was….

Hungry.

It ate fish, it showed no interest in making a move on Little-Brother, but every single action had a deep-seated hunger in it, was all-consuming deep in its eyes. Eye-contact was nerve-wracking, told him that despite all actions, it was still starving for something.

But what? It ate fish, it didn’t show any interest in eating dragons…what did it want? What did it need? Why was it like this? It wandered off, came back with fish, so it was capable of going off hunting…what was it about him that had it looking like it should be slavering?

He didn’t know. He didn’t know, he was missing something and if he wasn’t careful he was going to get himself killed before he could be rescued.

Okay no think. Use that big brain of yours, look at it from another angle. Sit next to the pond, staring at the sliver of moon dancing on the surface. Once more, from the top.

This Yokai had shot him out of the sky, had him dead to rights, all trussed up, shooting-bite aimed at his heart…and decided not to kill him, decided to bring him here, feed him, and fix his wing. Why?

Didn’t have an answer for that. Keep going…also had an interest in odd behavior, ate fire-nibbled fish, seemed to enjoy engaging in odd actions and then rewarding those actions with fish…gave gift-names. If he didn’t know any better…the behavior was that of wanting to understand, wanting to be…friendly.

But why? Yokai killed dragons, it had a flight…why was it doing this? Why was this Yokai so interested in befriending a dragon? Besides the simple fact that dragons were AWESOME and Night Furies were the MOST AWESOME, so….

Sigh, flop down beside the pond, nubs and ear flaps drooping. His mind was chasing the same thoughts in circles—he couldn’t startle them into a different track so he could run them down and figure them out. The Yokai wanted him alive—that was obvious. So, at the very least, he could play along, figure out the Yokai to use the information against it, pick apart its behavior, and when Older-Brother came to save him, he’d be armed with pertinent information about the most dangerous creature known to dragon-kind.

He fell into a fitful doze then, ears twitching as unpleasant dreams started sneaking in—

_Wings broken and dragging, trying to leap for Older-Brother but kept away by walls of ice—hearing Mountain-King’s booming roar saying he was useless useless useless—running shrieking away from dark hide with a glowing skull face—_

_Face to face with his family, sagging in relief—confusion when they recoiled in fear—look around, trying to spot what it was that had them terrified—_

_Saw himself reflected in ice—confusion, realization—stood—_

_Watched, apart from himself, as the skull-faced Yokai shucked his scales and charged his family._

Little-Brother woke up with a sharp gasp and a squeak—breathing hard, trying to see everywhere at once…pat at his chest where his scales had split…nothing. Nothing it was just a bad dream.

Huff, shake his head again, lay back down. He was going stir-crazy. Why, those roars had almost sounded _real—_

Those roars had sounded real.

And then echoing familiarity worked its way into the cove—

Little-Brother jerked up, ears straining—he knew that noise.

_Dragons_.

Older-Brother was power-flapping as hard as he could, just shy of breakneck only because the others were having to keep up—fly low, fly fast, they’d get there and back hopefully with Mountain-King none the wiser.

This plan bottomed out when they reached that terrible island, only to find it already under siege.

_“Oh no,”_ Honeysuckle gasped, paws to her mouth.

Older-Brother’s stomach started crawling like he had swallowed twenty eels—dragons from a rival nest, dragons following one of _them_ , the queens that were just as bad as Mountain-King, that were so desperate to feed her that they’d kill other dragons if it meant they’d be spared—

_Little-Brother._

Forget stealth—power flap, surge forward and into a shrieking dive—

Had to dodge the first of the dragons screaming for his queen, nearly flew into the claws of a second before it went down, spines bristling from it.

_“You’re no use to Little-Brother if you’re dead, IDIOT!”_ Swift-Strike barked.

_“What are these guys DOING?”_ Greenscales asked, flapping in panic. _“I thought they were up closer to Berk what are they doing flying this far south?”_

_“The Vikings must be putting up more of a fight this turn,”_ Swift-Strike said, before having to go on the defensive.

Having to fight tooth and claw to get away—during the haze of battle all Older-Brother could think of, deep down, was that these alphas were terrible to be driving dragons to this madness. They deserved better—alphas that cared—

Little-Brother deserved better.

The thought of his younger brother hiding and terrified, maybe bound and downed, filled him with rage, made the blast at the Nightmare bearing down on him much more powerful than usual—enough that it alerted the Yokai viciously defending their nest.

_Nest-raiders—that’s what these alphas have made us._

Manage to twist free—but scouring the island was out of the question now, the Yokai were on high alert—circle away to find a smaller island to camp out on, wait a day until they could sneak back in—harried by Terrible Terrors trying to claim this island for their queen—

And then the rumble in their bones that said their absence was noted.

No—no, Older-Brother would resist—he had to—Little-Brother needed him—

Honeysuckle layered a wing over him, the others giving him concerned looks…he couldn’t do this to his friends, either. He was trapped between a rock wall and sharp teeth, and he couldn’t go either way without getting hurt.

He gusted out a deep sigh, closing his eyes. _I’m coming Little-Brother—I swear._

Opened them. _“It was my fault—if he bothers asking, it was my idea. You guys had nothing to do with it.”_

Swift-Strike snorted. _“Like we’d let you take the blame.”_

_“It’s cool, bro—we’ll think of something,”_ Blue-Firescales assured him.

_“Yeah, just—OH WILL YOU SHOO!?”_ Greenscales demanded, mantling his wings and puffing up, glaring at the Terrors that were not at all intimidated by the threat display.

_“Our island now!”_ one squawked. _“Go away!”_

_“An island this close to hostile forces is a health hazard,”_ Healing-Talons told them.

Honeysuckle nudged Older-Brother. _“We have to go.”_

Older-Brother nodded, glanced back at that stupid island—if only—he needed maybe five minutes to search the island….

Wait.

He looked at the Terrors still mobbing them. _“Hold it! Hold it, we’re leaving! Just—I need you to do me a favor!”_

_“No!”_ one Terror shot, landing on a rock spur and glaring at him. _“What favor?”_

Well it was a start. _“That island over there—I need to know if there’s a dragon on it that looks like me, and if he still lives. Can you do that for me?”_

_“And what’s in it for us?”_ another Terror asked, licking her eyes.

Older-Brother considered, glancing around….

Spotted flickers of light beneath the waves.

He bounded onto a rock to get a better angle, shot a plasma blast at the school of fish—looked at the gobsmacked Terrors as the stunned fish started floating to the surface.

_“How about enough fish to stuff yourselves silly with?”_ he asked.

One of the green Terrors clicked his mouth shut. _“Deal!”_

_“Clever,”_ Swift-Strike observed, as the whole cloud of Terrors dove for the fish. _“Now let’s get out of here—if we leave now, we might get back before Mountain-King decides to eat all of us.”_

_“Yeah, about that—I was thinking,”_ Greenscales said, flapping into the air. _“What if we told him that we were…negotiating with dragons trying to encroach on our territory? It’s kind of the truth.”_

_“I like it,”_ Blue-Firescales said, following. _“And then—OOH! AND THEN we can say that we have to come back to make sure they’re respecting the boundaries and whatnot—OLDER-BRO that means we’ll be able to come back super-quick!”_

_“We just need to get Mountain-King to believe us,”_ Swift-Strike said, looking at Older-Brother. _“So? What do you say?”_

Older-Brother looked at Honeysuckle and Healing-Talons—his two oldest friends, whose opinions he valued most. They considered….

Nodded finally.

_“That plan has a high chance of succeeding, if delivered correctly,”_ Healing-Talons said.

Honeysuckle put a paw on Older-Brother’s shoulder. _“So let’s deliver it correctly.”_

_“Okay,”_ Older-Brother said, nodding.

And unable to keep from looking back at that island as they left.

_I’m sorry, Little-Brother—wait for me, okay? Just a little longer._

Because soon, he’d be rescuing his little brother. He had to still be alive.

He just had to be.

A dragon raid was always a mess—there was no working around it.

This one went pretty average, in Obake’s opinion—dragons attacked, dragons went after food stores, dragons went down to vicious retaliation…wash, rinse, repeat. If it weren’t for the fact that their numbers were limited, Obake would have done what he told Momakase he’d do _last_ raid and sleep through it. In his experience, the house he had picked had lasted this long because the dragons focused on the larger groupings instead of the houses off on their own—probably because the food stores were near the center of the village.

Everything changed when a familiar whistle shrieked through the sky.

“No,” he gasped, staring at the bright afterimage of a plasma blast.

The big Night Fury was back.

Barely registered Dibs yelling at him, dumb idiot that he was, _“Hey, isn’t that your dragon?”_ Right now he had bigger concerns: was it after him specifically, did dragons of greater intelligence bother with things like revenge, was it searching for—

Oh no— _Hiro._

A downed hatchling trapped in a cove with no means of escape—if the big one didn’t find it and take it away a different dragon could find it and _eat it._

He bolted, taking down a few dragons with his traps—most of them were now focused on fighting each other, strangely enough, but he’d take what he could get—slip away and through the dark forest, glancing back to make sure he wasn’t followed before stumbling through the dark.

It took an agonizingly long time to find the cove again.

He slipped through, ears straining—no sound suggesting a foreign dragon—matter of fact he didn’t hear them at the village anymore either—but he couldn’t be certain until he saw the dragon for himself—blunder through the opening, knocking down the bark barrier, looking around frantically, barking _“Hiro!”_ as loudly as he dared—

A little splinter of blackness separated from a larger shadow, green eyes blinking—a note of inquiry that didn’t sound distressed…no larger echo suggesting big brother had come back.

“There you are,” Obake sighed, sinking down to his knees to greet the little dragon. “I was worried you might get eaten.”

Hiro glanced up at the sky, as though he shared that worry—started to pad for him—stopped, backed up, nose twitching, suddenly looking nervous. Ah. Let him guess: he smelled like unfamiliar dragons.

Unfamiliar _dead_ dragons.

He shrugged, mildly apologetic. “Occupational hazard.”

The little dragon scowled, huffed, looked away—like it had reasoned out the exact same line of thought and that it shouldn’t be expecting anything else from a dragon-killer. Obake sighed, shifted around so he wasn’t sitting on his folded legs, leaned against the nearest boulder and scanned the skies, eyes peeled for black shapes arrowing this way.

The little dragon minced over, looking up like it was expecting the same thing.

“So I’m pretty sure I saw your big brother tonight,” he told the little dragon. “Or maybe it’s mommy or daddy—I’m beginning to realize just what a health hazard you are.” Angry parent dragons were something that were just now occurring to him, idiot that he was.

The dragon looked at him—looked _beyond_ him….

And he was an idiot for not blocking the exit again.

Sit up a little, trying to brace himself for the inevitable lunge to stop the dragon—

The dragon looked at him, at its bound and broken wing, back at him—back to the sky, scanning for dragons….

Finally laid down with a sigh that so clearly telegraphed defeat that it _hurt_.

Obake sighed, gently petted Hiro, feeling the shape of the ears and nubs on the back of his skull, rested his hand on his head, leaned back to scan the skies. Somewhere out there in that black night flew a larger Fury, one that would have no reason to hesitate in killing him should it find him. This was truly a stupid idea.

Start when he felt claws, look to see Hiro crawl into his lap, lay his head on his chest. Perfect position to lunge and bite his face off.

…Except he was currently just laying there, curled up, claws curled in, eyes closed, looking miserable.

Pet him again, hug him close, considering—maybe this was intended as a rescue attempt, and it failing might make the dragon more tractable. Except….

Except he found he liked Hiro when he was full of fire. This…this felt wrong. This felt off. He wanted a dragon that did what he wanted, yes, but…training a broken dragon felt…wrong, somehow.

“It’s all right,” he told Hiro finally, stroking the scales on his head. Hiro sighed, sagged against him, warm against the cool night air. Perhaps he sensed that Obake didn’t quite believe it himself. Minor debate…tickle his fingertips on the end of Hiro’s snout.

He got the expected snort, smirked at the offended look he got; Hiro scrubbed at his snout, sagged against him again, this time with part of his attention on Obake, expression clearly _don’t do that again._ Raise his hand, moving his fingers—Hiro huffed, moved over and buried his face in the crook of his other arm.

“What, don’t like that?” he teased, tickling one of Hiro’s ear flaps. The little dragon squeaked, pawed at his head, squawked at him and slinked off. “Oh I see, I’ve wounded your pride.”

Hiro barked and snorted at him, shaking his head and stomping his paws. _But—_ he wasn’t moping now. He had directed it at himself, sure, but Hiro had some of his fire back. That’s what he wanted. Training a broken dragon was no fun, after all.

And Hiro was much more interesting as himself, he’d have to give him that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In other news, it’s my personal headcanon that Obake’s like, mortally offended by Mr. Sparkle’s existence, to the point he won’t even think the man’s name (and, you know, in-canon he’s been dismissive of other villains—“Baron Von Steamer—what a stupid name!”). Just a thought.


	10. Suspicious Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"We can't go on together_  
>  With suspicious minds...."  
> \--"Suspicious Minds" by Elvis Presley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10, everybody! In which the boys are still debating who’s in charge here….
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney  
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks

Little-Brother scrubbed at his face as wakefulness slowly came back to him.

The little things came to him first. He felt something breathing behind him, but it wasn’t the warm wall of Older-Brother or Older-Light-Fury. It was cool, but it wasn’t the cold of Mountain-King’s breath. The air was fresh, but it was tinged with old dragon blood.

That last one jerked him awake, looking around—

Right. The cove. Where he with his broken wing was trapped.

Sigh, look around…take note of the limb wrapped around him. Ah.

Back out, squirm his way free, back away several paces before sitting down to look over the splayed Yokai, trying to curl up on the missing heat source now. Right. So his Yokai had come here last night, terrified that he’d be missing, and…stayed.

Little-Brother sharpened his mind on the scent of dragon blood. This was a Yokai. A Yokai that had been murdering dragons last night, possibly gleefully. He had to be careful.

…This was also a Yokai that had real fear in its face when it came barreling in here last night, real relief when he saw Little-Brother.

This was also a Yokai who had the same thought Little-Brother had when he realized that the dragons flying overhead were not from his flight—that they were being ordered around by a queen. Forget potential rescue from being grounded, those dragons could have carted him off to feed to their queen, especially when the alternative was being fed to her themselves. The thought made his scales creep.

It also made him miss his brother so hard his heart ached—the soaring hope that that was the sound of his brother coming to rescue him come crashing down like he had when wrapped in that trap—he had hoped his brother was coming to save him, but instead had to hide from the dragons—his own species!—because he made a convenient snack. And with a broken wing, the dragon that snatched him might have very well seen it as a kindness.

There had to be a better way than all this—such a thing as a good and kind and benevolent alpha. Talons and teeth, a _Yokai_ was more concerned about his well-being than Mountain-King!

…A Yokai was concerned with his well-being.

Now _that_ was an odd narrative, he decided, looking down from the sky back to the Yokai. These were cunning monsters that happily tore dragons to shreds. And yet here he was, looking at one that wasn’t—at least, wasn’t interested in doing that to _him_.

Maybe he was right, he decided as he sniffed the Yokai over again. Maybe this _was_ a half-Yokai, or some other species raised as a Yokai. It would explain the fish diet, and that glowy part in its face. That was different, he thought.

It occurred to him that he really didn’t have a frame of reference for not-dragons beyond scare-you stories and that this was probably a problem.

Huff, shuffle his feet, consider. Let’s just…focus on the problem before him. He was separated from his family, alone and injured. This Yokai, for reasons unknown, seemed invested in protecting, feeding, and healing him.

Why?

It always circled back to that question—why would a Yokai willingly help a dragon? What was it he wanted?

_Fattening me up to eat me,_ he decided, tipping his head to better consider the flat muzzle. The mouth was partly open in sleep, and he could see the white glimmer of fangs. Hmm….

Okay so maybe this wasn’t the _stupidest_ thing he ever did, but it was up there—but there was a question that needed answering, and he wanted to confirm the glances he had gotten of these fangs before when it seemed happy. Gingerly use a claw to nudge a lip back….

Maybe four teeth near the front qualified as fangs, he thought—the rest seemed a mix of herbivore and carnivore, cutting and gnashing. Pull his paw away, back up—and not a moment too soon, considering how it scrubbed at its face a moment after. And then rolled to its stomach with a groan.

“I _really_ shouldn’t have slept on that side,” it muttered, prompting Little-Brother to lift an ear flap. Pad over gingerly, make a little _wuff_ sound.

He backed up quickly when that made the Yokai start, roll back against the rock face and scramble to its limbs in alarm—tip his head when its attention settled on him and it _relaxed._

“Well glad to see _you’re_ feeling better,” it said, dismissing him as a threat to curl up around its left side, the side that it had slept on. Oh, _come on!_

_“Of course I am,”_ he huffed. _“And while we’re on the subject—YOU should TOTALLY be taking me seriously I am a big scary dragon and you’re acting like you’re trying to fall asleep on me again!”_

“Definitely feeling better,” it said wryly.

Little-Brother huffed, glanced away—glanced again when he realized the exit to the cove was unblocked.

It had been before, he knew this—he also knew that he hadn’t risked it last night because of the strange dragons flying around. Now, however….

He looked at the Yokai, who looked at him, something approaching panic in its eyes—

He bolted for the exit, the Yokai scrambling as well, only able to stop him by launching its much longer frame into his path. He dodged away, rounded back—

By the time he did, it already had the bark back into place, blocking his escape by foot. Glare at the Yokai, holding up a not-claw at him, eyes closed like it was having a deep internal debate—

Tip his head in confusion when it paced away, growling at itself.

“Dumb idiot— _it’s just a stupid dragon!”_ it railed.

_“Hey!”_ Little-Brother barked, bounding up to glare at him properly. _“I am NOT a stupid dragon, I am a NIGHT FURY! My ancestors are Lightning and DEATH! I am danger, I am wrath, and you will totally fear me!”_

Didn’t seem intimidated. Its face might have been buried in its paws, but that was more along the lines of aggravation, possibly with itself.

“She is not right if you tell a dragon _no,”_ it was muttering to itself. “It’s an animal, not a person.”

_“Excuse you,”_ Little-Brother sniffed, padding away with the intent of blasting a hole in that bark—ear flaps up at a sharp whistle—look up, scanning the sky—

Down at the Yokai crouching down next to him, realizing that it must have somehow made that noise even as it fixed him with a stern glare, a not-claw up in the air again.

“Past that tunnel is an island solely populated by dragon killers,” it told him. “There is nothing else on this island. It has been scraped down to nothing. The fact that there’s trees and grass is honestly surprising. The only proper fishing holes where you could be expected to feed yourself are frequented by Yokai. They would find your tracks, hunt you down, and wear you as a trophy. You wouldn’t last a minute out there without me.”

Little-Brother tipped his ears back—the noises it was making were still garbled to his Dragonese sensibilities, but its body language was clear: _out there is dangerous. I don’t want you out there, I want you in here where it’s safe._

…The body language made sense because he had seen it before, on Older-Brother.

Huff, sigh…sit down, not looking at the Yokai. This was frustrating. If only his wing was healed….

Felt tickling on an ear flap, flicked it away and growled at the Yokai. Frowned when it rocked back on its haunches, smirking—paw at its leg, bark out a laugh when it went tumbling backwards.

_“See? That’s what you get!”_ he barked, padding around it. _“Grr, I am obviously the most important, best dragon of all! See how I have tamed this dangerous beast—STOP THAT.”_

“Yes, I’m sure, you’re vicious,” the Yokai said, rolling away from him with a smirk on its face. Ugh—aha. Clamp down on its tail, teeth carefully sheathed, started tugging—it tried tugging back—finally shucked its hide and tossed it on Little-Brother.

_“Okay,”_ he huffed, worming his way out from under the hide. _“I get that it works, I get that it gets the job done, but this is annoying.”_ Finally get out, huff at the Yokai. Hm, without the black hide it really did look kind of thin. So the hide changed the shape of the Yokai too.

_Pulling off his skin to turn from a dragon to a Yokai—_

He shivered at the memory, tail fins flaring—not a pleasant dream. Peer back up at the Yokai—step back a pace when it sat back down to better observe him. Still that hungry look in its eyes.

_“What do you want?”_ he asked. _“What is it you want from me?”_ Nudge the hide. _“This? You want a Night Fury hide? What is it?”_

No answer—just that hungry look.

Sigh finally—he wasn’t getting an answer and knew it.

The Yokai tipped its head; reached around, pulled its hide back—Hiro jumped on it on a whim, glaring at the Yokai defiantly. _“Mine.”_

The Yokai tipped its head again, arching an eye ridge; tugged on the hide—

He flopped down on it, making himself looseboned and heavy. _“Still mine.”_

Now the Yokai got its feet under it, started lifting the hide straight up—didn’t think anything of it until he went rolling away.

_“Hey!”_ he barked, scrambling back to his feet in time to see it tug the hide back on—and was it _laughing at him? “Not cool!”_

Oh it was definitely laughing at him and it was totally on now—dodge to the side, grab the edge of the hide again, back up shaking his head—the Yokai barked, dropping down, this time trying to pry his jaws open—no, no idiot let go it could poke your eye out or stuff an arm down your throat and grab your heart—

And then dazzling peaceful oblivion.

He came to with the sensation that some time passed, but not a whole lot, scales dusty from being rolled around and Yokai peering worriedly at him. That was…different….

Watch the Yokai watch him as he got to his feet, shook himself—glared at the Yokai when he realized it had hit the spot on the jaw that nesting mothers jokingly called _the hatchling off switch_.

It, meanwhile, seemed satisfied that he was okay. And then curious—

_“No,”_ he said, batting at its paw when it tried reaching for that spot again. _“Nuh-uh that is NOT cool I don’t want to be out like that especially with you around I don’t trust you, okay?”_

And yet he had fallen asleep around it multiple times and accepted food from it and—

And he had referred to himself by its gift-name again.

No. No, he thought, backing up a step, ears flat, eyes glaring—no he wasn’t caught he wasn’t tame he wasn’t this thing’s _pet_ he was in control here. Or, as in control as a youngling with a broken wing could be.

The Yokai huffed, rocking back on its haunches. “I offend your delicate sensibilities again?”

_“Yes,”_ he said sternly, sitting down just out of arm’s reach and searching its face. It wanted to try that again, it really, really did…except it wasn’t making any moves to try again. Was this one of those Yokai tricks, lull the target into a false sense of security then _whammo?_ It sounded like a Yokai trick.

He huffed again, glanced away—remember why you were putting up with this. You have no choice, you’re stuck, so you’re making the most of it and studying Yokai behavior.

That…didn’t go both ways, did it?

His ear flaps shot up, cold trickling under his scales—that was it, that made _perfect_ sense, it was studying _him_ and his behavior so it could better kill dragons—it was scared last night because it had nearly lost its experiment—that explained everything, the hunger in its eyes—

Glance back to it to find that it had moved, was looking at the now-dead tame-fire before looking up at the sky, sighing…side to him. Not quite its back turned, but it suggested it was relaxing around him.

It had fallen asleep around _him_ too and accepted food from him. And he might not have given it a gift-name but he was certain if he’d huff it’d respond—test it—yes, it glanced at him, curious, looking him over like it was waiting for the next action.

_“I’m not sure if I understand you,”_ he said, swallowing a little when his throat felt dry. _“And I don’t know if I’ll ever trust you. But…maybe…I don’t know.”_ Huff again, lowering head and ear flaps in dejection. _“It’s complicated.”_

A long moment where if it weren’t for the silence he’d have thought it left—

And then a bit of startlement when he felt it nibble-grooming his head again. Blink when it jerked its paw back, obviously worried he’d snap at it…watch as it slowly lowered its paw back down to nibble-groom at his head again. Okay, this was fine—

The paw slipped down so its not-claws were just barely resting on the so-called off switch.

He froze, staring at it—

And then the paw moved on to scratching under his jaw.

_“Definitely don’t trust you,”_ he said, nearly melting with relief. This was nice, but he had to be careful and on guard.

There was no trusting a Yokai, after all.

So this was an interesting wrinkle—dragons had a sort of temporary off switch in their necks. His best bet was this was a bundle of nerves or some other sensitive organ, that when hit knocked a dragon out for a good quarter hour.

He wondered if this was true for all dragons.

Hiro took offense to this though, so he was guessing yes, he had indeed offended delicate sensibilities again—goodness, if he didn’t know any better he’d say that dragons were as intelligent as humans!

…Except, looking into those eyes, he had the sneaking suspicion that they _were_ as intelligent as humans, which made killing one akin to murder.

_Like you’re new to the concept_ , he thought, snorting as he closed the notebook with a snap. The dragon snapped to attention, watching him, still with wariness in every line of its body. Hmm, was that good or bad…perhaps both. Bad because he wanted this moving along, good because it meant he wasn’t broken as he had been last night.

And he had time still, he thought, tapping a finger on the leather casing. Time to poke and prod and push and pull and figure this dragon out from tip to tail. Time to train it to do what _he_ wanted, without breaking it—because after last night, he wasn’t certain he wanted that. This dragon was clever, intelligent…he could work with that, respect it a lot more than some dumb draft animal.

No, this little creature had… _potential._

Which meant endearing himself to it, convincing it that he was a friend, a voice to be listened to. This wouldn’t be easy, he could still see suspicion in its eyes, but it could be done.

He just had to be patient.

Glance back up at the sky, sigh. He needed to get back to the village, probably had some repairs stacked up, definitely needed fish for the dragon. He’d been gone for half the night and most of the morning, and it was clear to him his absences had been noted. _Something_ unpleasant was waiting for him back in the village, he could sense it.

Look back down to see the dragon looking up, like it was wondering what it was he was looking at. Look back down at him, at its bound wing….

Back up at him, a dawning comprehension growing on its face.

“You get it, don’t you,” he said, debating before allowing for a small smile. “Clever boy.”

The dragon looked back at its wing, up at the sky, back at him—spread its good wing and flapped it gingerly.

“Yes,” he said, aware that he was acting like he was having a serious conversation with a dragon—but it was exhibiting that intelligence comparable to a human being, so he felt it was worth the shot in the dark. Scootch closer, hunker down a little to impart the seriousness of this. “I need your help to get out of here. When you’re healed, when you can fly and are big enough—you’ll fly me out of here as well. Until then I’ll heal you and tend to you as best I can, but understand I want something in return.” Consider. “Do you understand?”

The dragon considered, stood, paced away…came back with the prototype saddle in its mouth, dropped it in front of him, flapped its wing again.

“Yes. Exactly.” So it _did_ understand. “ _You_ are my ticket out of here. Away from this place, away from these people. There’s a lot of things you and I can change, but I need you working with me.” Hesitate, try reading the draconic expressions, the way it was holding itself…it needed something in return, something to convince it.

A pointed sign of trust.

Hesitate—on the long list of ways this could go horribly wrong, potentially willingly letting it bite his hand off was way up there and counted as something he couldn’t brush off. This was very much a bad idea.

_Like I’m known for making good ones._

Finally commit, putting his hand out, noting the expression, like it was expecting to be petted and was both eager and resigned—didn’t put his hand out all the way, saw the expression shift a little before closing his eyes and tipping his head away. This was it, this was when he felt teeth and claws rend into him, when it—

Bumped against his hand.

Blink his eyes open, look—the dragon had its head pressed in his hand, lifted it up, eyes wide as it slipped in close, looking at him with new comprehension and….

And he was just being hopeful, he decided, petting the dragon—hopeful and idiotic, thinking that that expression was what he hoped it to be, that it said _I’ll help you._

But for now….

Maybe they had something to work with now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, real talk, until last week the title of this chapter was “An Understanding”—until, rereading it for editing purposes, I decided to change it to “Suspicious Minds.” I now can’t take it seriously because every time I glance at it I see that one scene from Lilo and Stitch (you know the one) but with Obake and Hiro. Oh well it was fun to draw. :)
> 
> (Check it out on my DA page since I can't get image formatting to work darn it)  
> EDIT: WE CAN HAZ ILLUSTRATIONS NOW I FIGURED IT OUT <3  
> 


	11. Maximum Insane Dragon Training Challenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11, everybody! And it's chapter 11 on the 11th. Nice. :D
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney  
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks  
> Wreck-It Ralph © 2012 Disney

Obake was surprised to find he was in a good mood when he headed back to the village.

The dragon seemed to be on board with his plotting, was willing to follow him on it at least, was currently back in the cove with the promise that yes he’d be back and with food besides. Whether or not it truly believed him was up for debate, but for right now he was willing to pretend. Yessir, this was definitely a good mood.

So, of course, it couldn’t last.

Specifically, it came crashing down the moment the big meaty hand did the same to his shoulders.

“There you are!” Yama railed, picking him up one-handed by the scruff of the neck. “Where have you been?”

As he said before, Yama was a good attack dog, a mountain of a man who hit hard and was properly intimidating.

He was also easily cowed by superstition in general and Obake in particular, when he decided he wanted to be _that_ venomous. And, considering he just had his good mood ruined, he was feeling _that_ venomous.

Hence his glowering at Yama, arms crossed, removing the cap from his emotions and letting all that vitriol send the side of his face tingling—for someone looking at him, they’d be treated to the rather horrifying sight of half his face glowing in a ghastly skull pattern. Before he had become adept enough at marauding and keeping his emotions in check, that pattern had done wonders in keeping people away from him that wished him harm.

It still did so, and he landed on his feet with but a slight bend to his knees when Yama dropped him like a hot coal. Still leveling a poisonous glare at him, Obake hissed “If I _thought_ it was any of your business I would have _informed you.”_

Yama recovered a little, jabbed a finger in Obake’s chest so hard he had to take a step back. “Watch it, _ghost_. Callaghan left _me_ in charge.”

“Why?” Obake asked, unable to resist slapping claws into him. “Couldn’t he find anyone more incompetent?”

Yama snarled, looked like he was about to make Obake regret that dig—

Which, unfortunately, summoned the one idiot on the island who actually _was_ more incompetent.

“Heyo!” the one idiot that Obake never cared to name chimed, leaning into the standoff. “You’re not over here insulting my boyo, are you?”

“I am _not_ your _boyo,”_ Yama spat—the one thing he and Obake could agree on was a shared dislike of the idiot with them currently.

“Whatever,” the pink-haired idiot said, waving him off. “So did you tell him about our new scheme? Didja? Didja?”

Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask, if you’re particularly unlucky they’ll see fit to tell you—

That snarling grin Yama was giving him right now told him he was probably in for worse.

“Oh yeah,” Yama growled. “We’ve got something _real_ special lined up.”

The ‘something _real_ special’ turned out to be dragon training—basically gladiatorial bloodsport in the kill ring whenever they managed to catch live dragons. More often, they set snares for Terrible Terrors and fought them against each other in the kill ring—there were still bloodstains on the stone from the last round.

Unfortunately, this round of dragon training had the idiot in charge.

“ _Presenting! Maximum insane dragon training challenge!”_ the pink-haired idiot screamed, to the roar of the gathered Yokai. “ _It’s like dragon training, but extreme!”_

“Funnily enough, I got that part,” Calhoun, the quartermaster, grumbled, stalking up to the gate where the first handful of unlucky Yokai were currently imprisoned. Obake wondered if she’d let him skive off if he asked nicely, decided that was unlikely.

_“Now I’m sure you’re all wondering: Mr. Sparkles, what is it about this dragon training that makes it so special?”_ the pink-haired idiot continued, as Calhoun started prepping the others. _“Well I’ll tell you! First, EVERYONE gets to participate! How? Via the lucky lottery, of course!”_

Or if you just didn’t like a person, which was more likely.

_“Second, to further the game of chance, we have this special wheel that not only determines the field, but the dragon our lucky participants get to fight! Now who wants to see some blood!”_

The howling screams weren’t comforting.

“Can we not?” Ralph asked, as he was handed a hammer by Calhoun. “I uh, _really_ don’t like to kill things before breakfast.”

“Oh _grow up,”_ Juniper said, stretching.

Obake exchanged glances with Momakase, probably the only one in here right now he was certain fully agreed with him on this.

“Come on,” Momakase sighed, selecting a sword and twirling it as she stepped forward. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get to important things.”

“Like breakfast?” Carl asked.

“Like _anything_ else.”

“Look,” Calhoun said, stopping them all at the gates. “I don’t care _what_ idiocy Sparkles and Yama set up, you. Do. This. Tribe. _Proud._ We are vicious dragon killers, and I need to _see_ that out there. It’s make your mamas _proud_ time!”

Carl tapped his chest and head before pointing up, which was the most Obake cared to pay attention to—tune out Ralph and Juniper’s inane cheering and the rest of the blather, try very hard to find the right level of disassociation that would get him through this with the most brain cells and body functions intact.

“Okay—out, out, out—you,” she said, stopping him as he was pressed forward. “Not like that.” Shove a hammer at him that probably weighed as much as he did. “I’m not for wasting an asset like a blacksmith, but try not to go down _too_ hard. They’ll see you as small and sickly and focus on the bigger Yokai first, so hang back, try not to die. Now _out.”_

Obake stumbled out, tried very hard to ignore the jeering.

“Worst. Pep talk. Ever,” he hissed, dumping the hammer to the side.

“You’re going to be wanting that,” Carl told him.

“I’ve decided I’m moving off the island entirely,” he told Carl. “And no, I will not be leaving a forwarding address.”

“You’re still gonna be wanting something. For defense.”

In response, Obake kicked up a shield laying nearby, caught it.

“When you have to choose, go for the shield,” he countered, ignoring Juniper leaning around Carl to wave at him. She was all right, he supposed, born after Callaghan had taken over, and occasionally offered ideas worth investigating—he just couldn’t be bothered with her _or_ her mother.

“All right, Juney! Show these goons who’s got the best moves of the tribe!”

Case in point.

“All right! Who’s up for some _carnage?”_ the pink-haired idiot demanded of the small crowd. At the screams for bloodlust—oh no he had that stupid wheel out. “Let’s roll and see what sort of field our delightful players will be using today! Everyone start taking bets!”

Obake looked back at the gate. He was reasonably assured he could get through it, considering he had been the one to engineer it the last time a dragon had broken through. Wince at Carl clapping a hand on his back.

“Maybe you two should stay behind me,” Carl offered, looking at him and Juniper.

Juniper waved him off. “I don’t _need_ protection.”

“Cute,” Momakase teased, stepping back to avoid the labyrinth walls sliding into place, leaving a clear opening between them and the dragon that the idiot was now spinning for. Remind him again why he engineered all this? Ah, right, for _practice._ Yay.

“And the winner is!” the pink-haired idiot bellowed. “Ooh, Nadder—tough luck.”

Yay.

Unlike the others, he wasted no time in bolting the moment the Nadder came barreling out—he knew full well he was useless in a straight fight, that his strengths were best realized in traps and other trickery. Some called it cowardice, he called it discretion. A fight was useless if you had to question if you’d survive it.

He was reminded that he had put way too much effort into the labyrinth—inspired as he was by the old myths—when the walls started moving on him.

“Ooh, I hope no one was looking for a way out!” the idiot jeered.

“I am going to murder that man,” Obake muttered—started at the Nadder hissing, ducked down a fresh corridor before fire filled the other, made a few sharp turns, doubled back at a dead end, had to duck behind a corner to catch his breath. Ugh, he hated this.

Also, he hated the fact that he had company.

“So what’s the plan?”

He had to give Juniper a hard look, sitting there next to him. “And what makes you think I have a plan?”

She shrugged, firm grip on her dagger. “You’re that kind of guy.”

Ugh, foolish girl—any other opinion had to be put on hold when the Nadder rounded the corner. Flee—encounter a couple of the others—some went one way, some went the other at a split, and Obake ended up following Momakase and Juniper right into a dead end. The girls wasted no time in scaling the walls, leaving Obake to look back and wonder if he could _maybe_ outrun a Nadder’s shot.

“Come on!” Juniper called down—he looked up to see her and Momakase looking back. “Come on, climb the wall!”

Despite everything, despite the dire straits he was in, he had to give her a _you can’t be serious_ look. “What, in our entire shared existence, gives you the impression I can do that?”

Momakase glanced away—looked at Juniper and shrugged. “His funeral.”

Which was about the time the Nadder rounded the corner.

Curse—fling the shield at it, try to scramble up the wall—would have done better if he had done it when one of the girls were there. Slide back down—

Flatten himself against the wall, trying for as slim as possible as the Nadder charged forward, angling for its blind spot—

_Blind spot, yes,_ he reflected, when his vision was filled with those huge nostrils. _But it’s not like it can’t smell you—_

Blink when the Nadder tipped its head and chirped, obviously confused.

_Hiro,_ he realized. _It smells Hiro I must smell like a Night Fury of all things—_

_“Bo-_ ring!” that pink-haired idiot drawled. “Let’s spice it up a little, shall we?”

Dumping a crate full of stolen silverware to agitate the Nadder was _not_ what Obake considered a good time, for the record—duck under the head before it shot its flame, grab the tip of the tail when it spun, hoping to get a boost over the walls—was not counting on it panicking and whipping its tail around until he was airborne, just barely managing to catch the chains forming the netting over the kill ring before gravity reasserted itself.

Well, the good news: he was currently mostly out of harm’s way with a spectacular view of the Nadder rampaging down there, knocking down the walls in favor of tracking down the other Yokai. The bad news: this current location was heavily dependent on how long he could hold his own weight up, and his arms were starting to burn. Should probably haul himself up, _up_ was preferable to _down_ at this height—

“Hey!”

Look up to see that pink-haired idiot on the support beam nearest to him, waving a heavy cane around.

“Nobody skips out on dragon training!” the pink-haired idiot jeered. “Time to get back in there!”

Rapped hard on Obake’s hand—he yanked that hand back with a yell, lunged to regain his grip—

Rough wood hit the other hand, and he was falling back to earth—

Hit the Nadder’s wings just as it was running under him after Juniper—startled it, distracting it, causing it to turn as he rolled down one wing and off the other—

Tumble up a fallen wall to land in a crumpled heap on the ground behind it.

“I am going to _murder_ that man,” he ground out, when enough of his sensibilities had returned to alert him to his upside-down position—lucky he hadn’t broken anything, the worst thing hurt on him currently being his pride. Glare up at where that idiot was laughing—

Hmm.

Roll upright, make sure everything still worked—take a few moments to orient himself and make sure he didn’t go staggering off before taking note of where that pink-haired idiot was and moving to accommodate—

Everyone, Nadder included, stopped in nonplussed silence when he crawled back up onto the fallen walls and whistled for attention. Make sure he looked intimidating, dragons attacked intimidating opponents…grab a small knife from one of his hidden pockets and fling it at the dragon.

It hit wrong and without enough force to do more than anger the dragon—Momakase was the expert in knife-throwing—but it angered the dragon enough to prompt it to shoot fire at him—

Which was precisely what he wanted—take a step back, drop back behind the walls just as the dragon committed to the blast, white-hot fire shooting over his head—

He cackled darkly at the sound of that pink-haired idiot and Yama diving for cover, inwardly cheering at the demise of that stupid wheel. Heard a few hard hits after the fire stopped—poked his head back up to see the Nadder splayed on the ground, Ralph and Carl on either side of it. So that actually went better than he had hoped.

Look back up to see Yama and the pink-haired idiot steaming—literally. And…glaring at him. Yay, that suggested this wouldn’t be a one-time thing. He’d probably be finding himself ‘lucky’ enough to be picked in that lottery again and again.

In the meantime….

“I believe this means that dragon training is _over,”_ he spat.

Yama scowled at him—jabbed a meaty finger at the Nadder. “That dragon’s still alive! Nobody leaves until it’s _dead!”_

Look back at the others to see Ralph and Carl exchanging uneasy glances—of course they’d hesitate. Carl had never been sold on the direction the tribe had taken after Granville left and Ralph had been pressganged into service—killing an unconscious dragon didn’t _sit right_ with them. Juniper was hesitant too, more from inexperience than anything.

Which bore asking the question of why _he_ wasn’t moving.

…Because killing dragons didn’t sit quite right with him anymore. If Hiro was that smart…if Night Furies were that smart…then what about the other dragons?

_What if everything they knew about them was wrong?_

Momakase was finally the one who huffed, drew her sword, twirled it as she approached the dragon. “Fine. Anything to get out of this mess.”

He couldn’t help it—looked away when she did it, glaring at a splintered knothole as he tried to get his emotions under control, knew from the mad tingling in his face that he was failing. Say they _were_ that intelligent—that was a potential test subject wasted.

Say they ever found Hiro, hiding in that cove in the woods. That’d be him _and_ Obake losing their heads.

He had to get out of here—he was starting to feel sick from the screaming and roaring of the crowd, slamming down on them and amplified by the coliseum design, and he just. _Couldn’t. Get. That stupid tingling to stop!_

“All right!” that pink-haired idiot cheered when the crowd finally started to quiet. “Thanks for the memories, ladies and gents, we hoped you enjoyed our show and we’ll _see you next time!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so we now have another movie’s characters making appearances, and at first I questioned including it, but I wanted to because I wanted the quote, and then I came to a very important conclusion: I’m writing this for fun and no one’s paying me. INTRODUCING WRECK-IT RALPH! And Calhoun which is really weird for me because Supersonic Sue is voiced by the same woman but writing it all out IT WORKS. :D
> 
> Also—Mr. Sparkles has to be like, my least favorite character in the series. I don’t know why, I just don’t like him. *shrug* And we have Juniper quoting the Ultimate Spider-Man comic book—really loved that series, and then it went kind of wonky. :\ Obake quotes Owen Wilson in Shanghai Knights in response. XD


	12. The Terrible Terrors of Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 12, everybody! In which…things happen….
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney  
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks

He couldn’t see Hiro like this.

Forget the fact that he had to compose himself, the fact that he wouldn’t be able to slip away easily, the fact that he had things to do and get together. He just…couldn’t bring himself to face that dragon right now. Some little dragon that still had something approaching innocence in its eyes. He felt dirty, and if he saw Hiro like this now, he felt like he’d ruin the dragon, ruin any chance he had of escaping.

And he wanted to—needed to—so badly it _hurt_.

Hence why he was in a back corner of his forge, sitting with his back to the wall, hands laced, head resting on his fingers and hanging between his knees. It was the sort of position Granville often found him in after a particularly bad day.

(The worst had often found him curled up tight in a ball, so he was counting this as a win, no matter how small).

Someone knocked on the doorjamb. “Go away,” he called.

Heavy tread suggested he couldn’t _be_ that lucky. “Hey,” Carl said. “I brought soup.”

“Wonderful,” he muttered, still not looking up. “Now go away—I’m very…busy.” Yeah right—Carl wouldn’t believe that, he never bought that, the man was a stupid mother hen who had missed his calling when he decided to stay behind with the marauding mercenaries the tribe turned out to be.

Yup, Carl didn’t buy it. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, fine,” he bit out automatically—finally lifted his head…no, his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, he really _had_ been sitting here long enough for it to get dark and for his spine to inform him that it hated him very much at the moment.

Hiro would be wondering where he was.

Finally bring himself to look at Carl. “I’ll be fine, hovering like some anxious hen isn’t going to change anything.”

Carl shrugged. “You don’t know that.”

“I know it aggravates me.”

Carl shrugged again, put the bowl on the table closest to Obake. Smelled like his favorite, which meant that either Carl had punched somebody’s lights out to get the ingredients or Momakase was involved.

“Momakase didn’t help me with this,” Carl said, as though sensing his thought.

“Well thank Heaven for small favors,” Obake said drily. “Now get out.”

Carl shrugged again, did so. “You’re welcome.”

Obake sighed. Yeah, sure. Struggle upright, eat after a moment of silence.

Get to work when he finished.

He didn’t want to go there—he really didn’t want to go there.

But—he had something else hinging on his success. Another living being dependent on his actions. Something about that was horribly sobering. He always knew that if this failed he’d be dead. He always knew that the dragon would be too.

Now, however…now he was starting to see that that mattered to him. And that if he cared about one, after so long of caring about nothing…he had to care about everything now.

Failure was never an option—that was the truth of the matter.

What was also starting to be a truth: Hiro’s death wasn’t an option anymore either.

He had to make this work.

It had worked—barely.

Mountain-King had been unimpressed at the start, until Blue-Firescales and Greenscales impressed upon him how dangerous it was for a queen to encroach on their food sources—they had the thinnest of opportunities before them.

And it would be several days before they were allowed back out to confirm.

Older-Light-Fury had pinned him once he was away, snarled and demanded to know what he was doing—

_“I’m trying to get Little-Brother back,”_ Older-Brother said, heart breaking at her expression. _“I know he’s still alive, I just—I need….”_

She flopped down next to him, one wing wrapped around him and pulling him close. _“I know. I know.”_

But the plan was working—in a few days they’d be able to go back, he’d be able to pinpoint Little-Brother’s location on that island thanks to those Terrors, be able to find him and bring him back—

And then the worst happened.

Mountain-King sent different dragons to scout.

He didn’t have it—didn’t have the patience to hold back, to think the action through—just went storming into the main cavern, roaring his anger, demanding to know _WHY—_

_“I think you just showed me why,”_ Mountain-King hissed. _“There is no danger from the queen, is there? Just you and your subordinate self.”_

Older-Brother braced himself—he had to at least _try_ to escape—

_“I don’t feel like eating my last Night Fury,”_ Mountain-King continued, hitting him where it hurt. _“So I’ll just make sure you have time to think about what you’ve done.”_

No—launch himself into the air, fly—

Was whacked out of the sky by a huge paw, faster than blinking—barely had time to snap everything in so he didn’t break anything on impact, tumbled into a cave at the bottom of the cavern, no exit—

_“NO!”_ he howled, scrambling to right himself, to get out—

And then an earth-shattering strike—rocks fell—

And froze into place.

Trembling, still…frozen long enough for the dust to settle, to realize that yes he had air in here….

And that he was trapped.

Trapped for as long as it pleased Mountain-King.

He screamed, flung himself at the rocks—knew instinctively that trying to blast his way out would end up killing himself—no, _no_ —

His claws were blunted and bloody by the time he finally collapsed in heartbroken exhaustion, crying and wailing himself to sleep. Before…before he might have had a chance, but now….

_I’m sorry, Little-Brother._

The sun had set, and Hiro had to resign himself to the notion that Obake wasn’t coming back today.

…You know what, yes, he was going to use proper names now and he was accepting that gift-name, because if that Yokai trusted him _that_ much…maybe he trusted him too?

Snort, get up and pace—okay, let’s be real here, you know for a fact now that the Yokai has plans to use you—

_To escape. It wants to get away from here._

But why was it unable to escape on its own? Did Yokai have alphas that exerted their will on other Yokai, forced them to do things they didn’t want to do?

Did…did this mean _all_ Yokai weren’t _that_ bad?

No—don’t get ahead of yourself. Right now we’re working with a case study—one Yokai that may or may not even be a full Yokai.

He really needed to be able to see more than just the one to compare.

But pondering this new wrinkle with his pet Yokai was preferable to thinking of last night, when he was so _certain_ that his brother was coming to save him…only to have those hopes dashed when he realized it was a rival nest. You know what? You know what he was _glad_ Obake cared enough to come check on him and stay the night because realizing that a rescue wasn’t coming that night _hurt_.

…But a rescue _was_ coming—a rescue _had_ to be coming, Older-Brother wouldn’t give up, Older-Light-Fury wouldn’t give up, their friends wouldn’t give up—

He just had to hang on, for at least a little bit longer.

Go back to the tough-hide thing, sit down next to it, look it over…Obake intended it to be on Hiro for some reason. Something relating to that grand escape scheme.

Why would something on Hiro help Obake?

Scrub at his nose a little, snout wrinkling—there was something he was missing— _several_ somethings he was missing, a whole series of leaps that led to bounding into flight with an idea.

But right now there was only so far he could go by himself—he’d have to wait for Obake to come back, and at this point morning was probably the earliest he’d _be_ back. _Wuff,_ but this cove was boring.

Ears flipped up—noise. New noise in this deathly-quiet island that didn’t even have birds—

Dragons chittering.

He got to his feet, scanning the skies and padding from paw to paw nervously—what—who—they would have been called back by their alpha what dragon would _willingly_ explore an island with a Yokai-nest on it what—

He caught sight of movement along the cove ridge, froze—

A Terrible Terror’s head poked over the side, tongue flicking out as it scanned the cove.

_“I say we’re wasting our time,”_ he heard faintly. _“No dragon willingly lives on an island like this.”_

_“But that Fury said—”_

_“I know what he said—now we get to tell him that other one’s dead and then WE get NO FISH.”_

That Fury— _Older-Brother._

_“HEY!”_ he barked, throwing caution to the wind—there was a thin chance, there was hope—

The one Terror perked up—several more joined it—

_“Hey!”_ Hiro barked again, bouncing up on his back paws. _“Hey! Down here!”_

Back down to all fours—braced himself when the Terrors came streaking down. Oh please don’t be the moment when he realized he made a _really bad_ error in judgement—

Was soon surrounded by curious Terrors, all of them smaller than him. Barely. Which meant if they swarmed he was dead—

_“Nope,”_ one said finally. _“That is definitely a tiny Fury and it’s definitely alive.”_

_“Hey,”_ Hiro said. _“I’m not THAT tiny.”_

_“You are compared to that other one,”_ another one said.

That other one— _“What other one? Was there a Night Fury like me? Except, you know, bigger? Tiny scar on his snout? That was me, by the way.”_

_“There was definitely a bigger Night Fury,”_ the first Terror said, nodding.

_“He asked us to look for you,”_ another one said. _“Gave us fish for it.”_

_“We didn’t think we’d find anything,”_ another one said.

_“We were pretty sure you were dead,”_ another one added.

Okay, that was fair. _“But there was definitely another Night Fury.”_

_“Definitely,”_ the first one said.

_“Of course, he also asked us to tell him,”_ one of the other Terrors said, considering. _“But I’m not sure how since he flew off.”_

Hiro deflated a bit—rallied. _“He probably was summoned back to our nest—he’ll be back.”_

_“So what is this then?”_ one Terror asked, pawing at his bound wing.

_“It smells funny,”_ another said.

_“Um….”_ Okay, debate time—tell them the truth, that he had broken his wing, and peg himself as a target for scavenging, or make something up.

Or…maybe he could spin this.

_“This,”_ he said, maneuvering a bit so he wasn’t exposed on all sides to Terrors. _“Is the latest in the most cutting-edge technology available!”_

_“It smells like old animal hide,”_ one Terror said.

_“Ah, but you’re not thinking with the proper amount of cunning,”_ Hiro countered. _“For THIS…is…a….”_ What had Obake called it? Ah forget it. _“A wing-healer. I broke my wing when I was shot out of the sky by the most DEADLY of dragon-hunters, but with this, in a scant…bit, my wing will be healed!”_ he hoped.

The Terrors, at least, all seemed appropriately impressed.

_“How long does it take?”_ one asked.

Er….“ _More than a few days,”_ he said truthfully. _“Keep in mind that it IS cutting-edge technology.”_

A few of the Terrors were nodding now. _“How does it work?”_ a different one asked.

_“Um….”_ Glance it over as he had been—it seemed straightforward enough. _“What it does, see, is…it holds my wing still, so it doesn’t get jostled, and it holds the bones together so they heal straight.”_ Hopefully. _“No twisted wing for me!”_ Still hopefully.

One of the Terrors was sniffing at it now. _“So how did you get it on?”_

Hmm…ah—the truth would _really_ pack a punch here.

_“Now here’s the tricky and dangerous part,”_ Hiro said, pacing a little, hunching his spine in anticipation of his big story-punch. _“To get this to work, I had to tame the most deadly, the most dangerous, the most cunning of all dragon-hunters! That’s right, friends—I trained…a YOKAI.”_

Several of the Terrors gasped, although at least one snorted in disbelief.

_“I sense doubt,”_ Hiro said, sniffing a little.

_“Wouldn’t a Yokai have just killed you though?”_ the Terror asked.

_“DID you die?”_ a different one asked, wide-eyed.

Hiro waffled a paw a little. _“Eh…I won this one over with my charm. Kind of helps that I’m pretty sure it’s not a FULL Yokai—kind of need to compare and contrast them.”_

_“I don’t believe you,”_ the one said.

_“I see! Well, why don’t you stick around and find out?”_ Hiro asked, pacing away and flicking his tail. _“I’ve trained my Yokai to come here with fish for me every day—you can see for yourself then.”_

Several of the Terrors dithered at that—one licked its eye, considering him.

_“If you die, I get your wing-healer,”_ it said finally.

_“You know what? That’s fair.”_

And even better: everyone knew that Terrors were notorious gossips. If his Yokai-training worked…maybe they wouldn’t have to worry about this Yokai-nest anymore.

And even better than that—they’d bring news of him back to Older-Brother.

_I’m here, Older-Brother,_ he thought, chest swelling with hope. _I’m still here—I’m waiting._

_Just don’t leave me here too long, okay?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In other news, Terrors are surprisingly fun to write and Felony Carl is the official team mom. And Hiro has found his calling as a sales-dragon.


	13. The Fantastic Furious Yokai-Tamer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 13, everybody! How unlucky….
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney  
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks

_“Finally!”_

Hiro was brimming with impatience by the time Obake finally _did_ come back into the cove—past the middle of the day and looking absolutely exhausted and—

Hiro locked his muscles, him having an audience the only reason he didn’t go bolting away from the Yokai now smelling freshly of dead dragons.

Obake didn’t seem to notice, dropping his carry-tool to the side before sitting down heavily. “So _I_ had a _fun day,”_ he said, sarcasm so thick a Timberjack couldn’t cut it. “I hope yours was improved, at least.”

 _“Well, I was starting to worry you wouldn’t, you know, show up,”_ Hiro muttered, glancing at the Terrors all clustered on the one rocky outcropping, all staring with naked fear.

Obake finally followed his hints—blinked at the sight. “Ah…company.”

Yup, pretty much.

 _“Okay, so for reasons I’m going to need you to be on your best behavior okay?”_ he asked quietly—not that Obake had tried to hurt him after that first night, but the dead-dragon smell was making him nervous.

The Terrors radiating anxiety didn’t help matters.

 _“It’s looking at me,”_ one hissed.

 _“Don’t look at them, look at me,”_ Hiro said, pawing at Obake’s knee and succeeding in getting the Yokai’s attention. _“You brought fish, right?”_ Sit, did Sit Up, pawed at the air a little—

Obake considered his paw a little before putting part of his flat against Hiro’s.

“High five,” he said, before finally rooting in his carry-tool and pulling out—

 _“It DOES give him fish!”_ one Terror squawked.

 _“I bet the fish is poison,”_ a different one muttered.

“Enlighten me,” Obake said, attention back on the Terrors as Hiro ate. “Are these going to be a permanent fixation? Because for the record, I have no use for them.”

 _“Hey hey hey—no killing,”_ Hiro ordered, pawing at his knee again to get his attention. Think—point at the Terrors with the paw they couldn’t see, make a slicing motion across his own throat, shake his head pointedly. _“No.”_

Obake seemed caught completely flat-footed by the action, reminding Hiro that Yokai might not be as smart as he gave them credit for.

Or, conversely, Yokai didn’t think dragons were this smart.

That would…actually make total sense—Yokai viewed dragons as dumb prey animals—Obake had even referred to him as stupid. Dumb prey animals were not open to reason, were like rabbits and fish and squirrels and hogs—they weren’t _intelligent_ like dragons.

…Which meant he and Obake both had some reevaluating to do, he guessed.

“Fine,” Obake said finally. “But I’m not feeding them.”

Which, of course, was about the time one of the Terrors came down, mincing over to them and sniffing.

 _“Yes that’s definitely a Yokai,”_ it said. _“Are you sure it’s safe?”_

 _“Totally,”_ Hiro said, mentally begging _don’t prove me wrong now. “Watch.”_ Mince closer to Obake, lifting his head and nubs and exposing his neck. _“Pet me pet me pet me—”_

Obake obliged, still keeping an eye on the Terror—Terrors, the others were flitting down to better evaluate this strangeness.

 _“I smell fish,”_ one said.

 _“What’s it doing to you?”_ another asked.

 _“This is called…petting,”_ Hiro said. _“It’s like nibble-grooming, except Yokai use their paws. It’s very nice.”_

One of the Terrors stomped its hind leg, debating. _“How well-trained is it? Will it do it for me? Without killing me? You’re not dead, right?”_

 _“I want to know about the fish,”_ another Terror said.

 _“Well,”_ Hiro noised, debating. _“With this Yokai, you need to convince him that you’re not a threat—try looking cute, that usually works.”_ That reminded him: see how immune to cute antics Yokai were. The Terrors all looked at Obake at once— _“Yeah no not everyone all at once that could be taken as threatening.”_

The Terrors collected a few feet away, discussed it—a calico-patterned one finally minced forward.

 _“Am I doing it?”_ it asked, tipping its head and rolling a little on its paws. _“Am I doing it right? Is this cute enough?”_

Hiro studied Obake’s face, trying to see a familiar expression on the foreign structure. Not looking impressed right now, more like Older-Brother when Hiro’s attempts to eke out of trouble fell flat. _“Maybe try it like this.”_ Hold ear flaps and nubs at a certain angle, eyes wide, pupils dilated, sit and look non-threatening.

No, apparently certain Yokai were totally immune to cuteness. “I already said I wasn’t feeding them.”

 _“What’s the matter with its face?”_ another Terror asked, coming up on Obake’s other side.

 _“It doesn’t have the white with red stripes,”_ another one on that side said—flattening itself to the ground when Obake’s attention snapped around to them.

_“That’s not what I’m talking about.”_

_“You mean the glowy half?”_ Hiro asked. _“That’s what’s got me thinking it’s like…a half-Yokai. Have you seen any other not-dragons like it?”_

 _“No,”_ the red Terror said.

 _“Definitely not,”_ the blue one said, nodding. The others started mincing forward—

All of them scattered when Obake stood abruptly.

“Is this the part where I find out you asked them nicely to kill me?” he asked Hiro, leaning over him with paws on his hips.

“ _What? No,”_ Hiro said flatly, giving Obake a _the heck_ look.

 _“What’d it say? What’d it say?”_ the calico Terror asked.

Uhhhh…telling them what Obake said was probably _not_ a good idea….

 _“Errr…he’s…frustrated!”_ Hiro tried instead. _“Because you all are approaching from every angle and he can’t keep an eye on all of you—it makes him nervous.”_ Which was probably true.

 _“Yokai get nervous?”_ one asked.

_“Doesn’t everyone?”_

The expressions the Terrors were making suggested this hadn’t occurred to them.

 _“But,”_ the red one noised, scratching its chest and looking pensive. _“I always heard that Yokai were vicious dragon-killers—you don’t have the capacity for nervousness when you’re that mean.”_

 _“But this one isn’t doing any of that,”_ a yellow Terror next to it pointed out. _“It hasn’t tried to kill any of us and it fed him so….”_

 _“Definitely a half-Yokai,”_ the blue one said. _“You can tell by the black hide.”_

Hmm-hmm, a chance to present some of his know-how just jumped into Hiro’s jaws. _“And fun fact: Yokai can actually shed their hide and then pull it back on.”_

The Terrors all stared at him. _“What?”_ one asked.

_“Oh yeah—watch this.”_

Obake was _not_ happy with Hiro tugging on his hide and distracting him from waking the tame-fire up—squawked and argued for a few minutes before shucking his hide and flinging it on Hiro.

The Terrors were all gasping and staring when Hiro shook it off of him.

 _“That’s incredible!”_ one squawked.

 _“It’s not going to look for another hide, is it?”_ another asked.

 _“No,”_ Hiro said, shaking Obake’s hide off of him. _“He’ll pull this one back on in a minute. Watch.”_ Drag it back to Obake, chuff at him—

“What are you even playing at?” Obake demanded of him.

 _“Oh don’t be so grouchy,”_ Hiro said, padding away and sitting down. Obake glared at him before pulling his hide back on.

 _“It does!”_ the yellow one squawked. _“It does take its hide on and off!”_

 _“It didn’t even LOOK like a Yokai with it off!”_ a different one said.

_“Can you make it do it again?”_

_“Can all Yokai do that? What if they can that means no not-dragon nest is safe they could ALL have them—”_

A green one licked its eyes, considering. _“Or…or maybe that’s really NOT a Yokai!”_

Everyone stopped to stare at the green Terror—well, except for Obake, but that was because he didn’t speak Dragonese. The only sound for a few heartbeats was his dark muttering.

 _“Wait what?”_ one of the Terrors asked.

 _“Think about it,”_ the green one continued, padding over a bit to better gesture at Obake. _“The weird glowy face, the fact that it’s not aggressive to dragons, the hide that it pulled off then back on—I bet it’s like a-a—you know how sometimes we raid bird nests and there’s a cuckoo bird in it with the other chicks? I bet it’s like that—maybe it’s a cuckoo-Yokai!”_

Hiro worked his jaw in frustration—if the Terror was right, that meant all his effort in trying to figure out the Yokai was for naught. Being a not-dragon expert wasn’t as impressive as being a Yokai-expert.

The red Terror licked its eyes, thinking. _“But…you know…the whole scare-you stories about Yokai stealing dragon hides—it has to come from SOMEWHERE.”_ Gesture a paw at Obake, who was eyeing them all like he expected them to rush him. _“It being able to pull its hide off and on again fits that.”_

 _“Do they have to get new hides like hermit crabs have to find new shells?”_ the calico-patterned one asked, tipping its head.

A pale green Terror perked up at that. _“Hey! That means WE have nothing to worry about! We’re too small for it!”_

 _“Maybe that’s why it’s being so nice to you,”_ the yellow one said to Hiro. _“There’s no point in killing you for your hide because you’re too tiny!”_

 _“What about eating us though?”_ another one asked, ignoring Hiro’s muted _hey_.

 _“HEY—if you’d all direct your attention to the most-definitely-a-Yokai sitting here and minding his own business,”_ Hiro said loudly, pointing a paw. _“You’ll see that he’s sharing the fish that he INTENDS TO EAT with the fire. Yokai mostly eat fish, as it turns out.”_

All the Terrors looked at Obake, who was currently giving Hiro a look he couldn’t translate.

 _“Why is it letting the fire eat the fish first?”_ one Terror asked. _“It’s ruining the fish.”_

 _“Definitely,”_ the blue one said.

 _“Actually fire-nibbled fish tastes surprisingly good,”_ Hiro pointed out. _“And Yokai don’t eat the head or bones for some reason, so when they’re done with the fish they share.”_

Obake found himself the center of attention again.

 _“Do they really?”_ one asked.

 _“Oh yeah,”_ Hiro said, padding over to sit next to Obake, pointedly putting his back to the Yokai to emphasize his point. _“So see? Perfectly tame.”_

 _“What about all the attacks?”_ one asked.

_“Think about it—when do we see Yokai being all vicious? When their nest is being raided. How do we react when our nests are attacked?”_

_“That’s a point,”_ one said, licking its eye.

 _“What about other places though?”_ a different Terror asked.

_“But he’s the expert on Yokai—I don’t know enough about them to say for sure.”_

Neither did Hiro—this had been his first raid and he really only had Obake to go on here. But these were his best guesses, so….

 _“Huddle,”_ the red one barked.

“What mess have you bestowed on me _now?”_ Obake demanded, giving him a look that he surprisingly recognized as Older-Brother’s _so done_ look.

Although it was probably justified, considering the Terrors’ excited chattering. Very _nice_ chattering, they were bantering about words like _incredible_ and _amazing_ and oh yeah, he was awesome.

_“But this could mean—”_

_“Everything we know about them is wrong!”_

The Terrors had apparently come to a decision, all facing him now.

 _“Please teach us?”_ the calico one asked.

 _“Yeah!”_ the blue one barked. _“Teach us how to tame Yokai!”_

 _“ Please, Yokai-Tamer?”_ the yellow one begged.

Hiro couldn’t help but puff up in glee— _success._

 _“All right—gather around, listen up,”_ he ordered, waving a paw. _“And I’ll tell you all about how to train a Yokai.”_

Obake really couldn’t shake the feeling he was being used as an object lesson.

“What are you doing?” he asked Hiro after most of his first fish was gone. “What is this, _let me teach you how to sucker a person?_ Don’t, that’s not what this is.” This was more _how to sucker a dragon_ , if he were being honest.

“Hrr- _rff,”_ Hiro noised, nudging his elbow with his blunt head.

“No, I’m not finished. And I’m pretty sure I should be mad at you, if we’re being honest here.”

“Rrr?”

Look on his other side, see the calico-patterned Terror on his other side. “And you lot—if one more of you sneaks up on me I’m skinning you where you stand.”

The Terror didn’t seem impressed, glanced at Hiro, who was still doing his best impression of an orator at a lecture. Oh yes, definitely being used.

And this certainly didn’t help the _dragons are possibly intelligent beings_ theory—mostly because the more weight it was given, the more problematic killing them was.

_Say they’re not mindless monsters—that they can be manipulated as well as any human being. That means they can be used._

Hiro was nudging his arm again, looking pointedly at the speared fish carcass. Obake looked at him, made sure he made eye contact—

Tipped the stick so the fish carcass was in front of the calico Terror.

It took a _lot_ of effort to not burst out laughing at Hiro’s expression, or to flinch at the feeling of the Terror yanking the fish off the spear, but that was definitely worth it. Even if he _was_ pulling a muscle trying to keep from laughing or smirking at Hiro’s expense.

The downside was, this made him _very_ popular—and Hiro wasn’t motivated to help him out now.

“Get off _get off—oh fine here!”_ he yelled, throwing the other fish. The Terrors all sped after it, yipping and yapping and carrying on as they fought over it. Except for the calico one, which was now curled up next to him. Glance down at it, at Hiro giving him a flat look that probably meant _you threw my fish away this means war_. Back at the Terror…gingerly pat it.

It started, looked up at him…apparently came to a decision because it laid back down and let him continue to pet it with nothing but a warble.

 _Well well,_ he thought, trying to keep his expression neutral. _Everything we knew about you lot was wrong, wasn’t it? Tell me, was this all it would have taken to make you stop attacking us?_

He would be very cross if it was—this meant that all his grief trying to build a better dragon-trap, all the fighting and carrying on could have been avoided—

The Yokai themselves could have been avoided.

_Mental image of him carting a tame Terror to her, announcing proudly to anyone who could hear that he had devised a way to tame the monsters plaguing them—_

_…And then following that line of thought straight to its conclusion: being chased out of the village in anger._

“Hrr?” Hiro noised, pawing at his knee.

“It’s nothing,” he said, glancing away with a scowl on his face. Daydreaming about changing a past set in stone was folly. It was the future he had to look to.

A future where he escaped. Where his genius was appreciated.

If such a future existed.

“Nothing at all,” he sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiro gets to quote Ratatouille and just generally exact revenge on Obake in this chapter fun stuff. And a calico-patterned Terror…I wonder who that could be….
> 
> Also we've finally figured out how to get illustrations on AO3 so if you missed it check out Chapter 10. :D


	14. Only The Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Only the lonely know the way I feel tonight.  
>  Only the lonely know this feeling ain't right....  
> But only the lonely know why I cry...."_  
> \--"Only the Lonely" by Roy Orbison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 14, everybody! It’s Tony Stewart’s number! :D
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney  
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks  
> Wreck-It Ralph © 2012 Disney

Hiro seemed more tractable the next couple of days with an audience of Terrors watching, which was odd. You would _think_ that having wild dragons around would encourage him to behave in feral fashion, not act tamer. He was missing something.

But good news: he had succeeded in getting a harness on Hiro. Now for the next step.

“Up, Hiro,” he said, tapping his forearm—it wasn’t something he wanted Hiro to do when he got bigger, but for now it would be easier. The length of thin rope leading from the loop in the harness was currently coiled in his grasp, hopefully they could work on some things, like establishing a proper distance from him.

Now if only he could get the little dragon to step-up.

Hiro squawked, patted his arm, gingerly put some weight on it—another paw, another—hesitate—

Obake stood, not wanting to risk Hiro backing out—winced at the claws digging in, stopped by the leather arm chaps he had at least had enough sense to put on—Hiro flared his good wing, looked at him accusingly.

“Oh don’t give me that look,” he scolded. “I don’t want to just dive in all at once with teaching you how to fly again, do you?”

Hiro gave him a look that suggested he questioned Obake’s sanity—fair enough, humans did that as well. Time to test.

Lift his arm, bring it down, back up, the whole time watching Hiro’s good wing, watching how it all moved and lifted, studying the wing join and how the wing attached to the rest of the body—

Again, he had to note how streamlined the body was—built for flight. Not just flight— _fast_ flight. He was willing to bet this dragon could cover a hundred miles in a day if it were so inclined, the distance between islands just _disappearing_. With a full-grown Night Fury, not even the horizons would mark his limits.

Hiro couldn’t grow up fast enough.

“ _You_ are going to be my ticket out of here,” he said, as Hiro started to get into the movement and seemed to be enjoying himself. “A full-grown Night Fury could most certainly carry a grown man, I would hope.” He thought—what if Hiro never got any bigger, stayed the size of a Terror for life?

(Hiro was actually bigger than a Terrible Terror, but the fact still remained he was too small to carry a person at the moment).

“But this is good,” he said, both to assure the dragon and himself. “You’ll heal well enough, if current progress is enough to go by.” Lift his arm, Hiro extending his good wing as far as he could, glee across his draconic face. “Grow up soon, and then—then you and I will fly higher and faster than anyone has ever dreamed—we’ll rattle the stars, you and I.” Lower his arm a little, grinning in response to Hiro’s happiness and the freedom the dragon promised. “You and I will be _brilliant_ together.”

Hiro yipped, accepted the stroke following the spinal fins, purring and flipping his ears up.

Oh yes, he could definitely do some damage with the most feared of dragons as an ally.

Hiro wasn’t sure how to explain this odd behavior, but with an audience he had to come up with _something._

_“So what’s this then?”_ the red Terror asked, sniffing at the not-vine tied to the leather-thing on his back; Obake was currently holding the other end.

_“This…is…for…walking your Yokai,”_ Hiro decided finally. _“So they don’t wander off when you go exploring. And, you know, Yokai need exercise too.”_

The Terror made a pensive noise, considered that—Hiro glanced at Obake, now far enough away that the not-vine was taut, tugging on it gently. Hmm, maybe Obake intended that the other way around—one of these days, he was really going to have to establish who was boss here.

In the meantime, trot over to Obake to see if his guess was right.

_“Very_ good, Hiro,” Obake said, crouching down to give him nibble-grooms behind his ear flaps—both of them stiffening a moment when a loose scale came free.

Hiro eyed the scale pinched between two not-claws with concern, a little worried at how intensely Obake was examining it. He…wouldn’t be translating that as _the hide’s falling apart I should steal it now,_ would he? Because dragons shed scales all the time…did Yokai not know that? Maybe it was like all the things he was learning about Yokai through Obake. Maybe.

“Something to consider later,” Obake decided, tucking the scale away in his black hide (it could eat things up and spit them back out that was _WEIRD,_ okay?) and not doing a good job of reassuring Hiro. “But as for _this,”_ he continued, lifting the hand with the coil of not-vine in it. “We’ll work with this a few days, and then _maybe_ we’ll consider working a bit _outside_ this cove.”

Outside—

A nervous chill shivered up his spine—outside the cove _freedom_ he could….

_Not_ fly away, his wing was still bound and was most likely still broken so he wouldn’t be getting anywhere like _that_. And he was almost certain he’d need Obake’s clever paws to get the bindings back _off_. And what about what Obake insinuated, what he himself knew to be fact—on the rest of the island was more Yokai. All those Yokai lurking behind every tree and rock, with him not able to fly away….

Even if he got out of this cove he was still trapped.

“Not interested?” Obake asked as Hiro looked away with a huff. Glance at him, considering…glance at the Terrors discussing going off fishing before looking back at him.

“ _I’m still not sure I trust you,”_ he said quietly. _“What point does this serve? What’s the point of taking me out of this cove if I’m still a prisoner?”_

_Prisoner…_ he hadn’t quite thought of it that way before. Before he was always a downed dragon, in danger, protected by a Yokai’s goodwill, as odd as that sounded.

But having a sliver of freedom offered to him…not even freedom, just the illusion of it. So long as his wing was bound…so long as he had no choice in the matter, he might as well consider this imprisonment.

Obake was considering him, expression and body language having overtones of _deep thought_ and _confusion._ “I would have thought you’d like the idea of getting out of here for a while.”

_“I’d like it a lot better if I had any say in any of this,”_ Hiro countered, voice hot despite trying to keep it low—this wasn’t like back home, where they could fly wherever they wanted—

_So long as you fly where Mountain-King allows._

Twitch—no, no that was different…he thought. It was different when you….

Had to come back to the nest at whatever whim the alpha had, stay grounded when he said, bring him fish when he said or risk being eaten yourself….

Nothing had really changed, he realized—he was still trapped either way, Obake just didn’t exert control via mental orders. Why had he never realized this before?

_Because Mountain-King gave up on you. What good is exerting power over a downed dragon on Yokai? He probably figures you’re dead._

Felt something crumple inside at that— _Older-Brother_ didn’t think he was dead, did he? O-or Older-Light-Fury? They _had_ to be looking, to be raging against Mountain-King and demanding to come look—

_Ending up eaten because he got tired of them—_

What if—what if his family was dead—

_What if it was all his fault?_

He shouldn’t have come—shouldn’t have begged and pleaded until his family caved—he should be under Older-Light-Fury’s wing right now, in their home-cave, quietly mocking Mountain-King under his breath with Older-Brother—

Blinked in surprise when he felt the leather-thing come off—shot a stunned look at Obake, putting it to the side and eyeing him cautiously.

“That’s probably enough for one day,” the Yokai said slowly, still eyeing him like he thought he’d bite. “Are you okay?” Tip his head at the ledge. “If it’s about the Terrors, I’m sure they’ll be back, now that they think of here as a food source. _Stupid idiot,”_ the Yokai muttered, glancing away.

He hadn’t even noticed the Terrors leaving—look around, suddenly feeling bereft—

Feeling alone.

Alone with no flight, no other dragons, no family—just himself and the Yokai that had shot him down.

It felt like a mountain crushing his ribs—try to hold in his emotions, try to keep his sobs in, lower his head and close his eyes, ears flat like sensory deprivation would fix things—

Felt one of those weird long paws on his back.

He couldn’t help it—spin around, putting distance between himself and the Yokai, snarling.

_“Why did you shoot me down?”_ he demanded, emotion making his voice raw and crackly. “ _Why are you doing this why are you doing ANY of this you—you steal me from my family for WHAT? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!?”_

Chest heaving, snout scrunched in an attempt to keep despair off of it—the Yokai had flinched away, was backing away warily— _good._ Good it _needed_ to fear him he was a ferocious Night Fury he was not—he was not some _thing_ to be toyed with. Continue to glare as the Yokai retreated to the bark blocking the exit, still never turning away from him…slipped through….

Was gone.

The silence beat down on him, the horrible realization he was alone, without even the Yokai for company—not even birds or bugs chirped, the island was just…dead.

Like he could be.

_“Wait…wait, come back!”_ he cried, voice cracking and throat tightening against him in fear—an island populated by dragon-killers, and he had just chased off his only potential ally. The Terrors could only do so much— _would_ only do so much. Until Older-Brother came—

_IF Older-Brother came—_

No. _NO,_ he was _NOT_ going there Older-Brother was coming he _HAD_ to think positive _SOMEONE_ would come save him. He had to hold on.

Mostly because he was no longer assured of saving himself.

Carl could distantly remember a time where the great hall was a proper meeting place, where villagers would collect after a day’s work or just at odd times to connect—retreating in here during a dragon attack or during a particularly harsh winter.

Very faintly, he remembered that one winter where their old chief had come in with a sort of quiet, controlled rage and a small bundle.

But all that was a distant memory now—forget the fact that they were, at most, only a third of their remaining tribe, with that number halved by Callaghan off raiding—they had less camaraderie now and more clusters of people who came in for food and tried to avoid starting trouble. Which, unfortunately, happened quite a bit.

And then here Carl was, trying to carve out at least a tiny bit of that old feeling—Dibs would help, would chat about his day and anything he thought was interesting. Momakase might sit with them if it suited her, Ralph and Felix kept to themselves as they always did, a little worried about interacting with any of the Yokai even after several years. Obake….

For as long as Carl could remember, Obake only came here if he was _dragged_ here.

That was basically why he was here tonight—Carl had bumped into him (had actually been on the way to his house to try and get him out), had surprisingly managed to get him to come along with minimal fuss. Hadn’t seemed at all there—matter of fact, still didn’t. Granted, he was used to Obake being present physically but absent mentally—you could tell by his eyes, when they went internally distant, like he had shuttered them within like he did the forge.

Tonight seemed like he was in a deeper, more all-encompassing thought—not looking at anyone or really anything, hands laced, not speaking to anyone or eating anything…might as well have been a statue of him. Didn’t even respond to Dibs’ comment about _his Night Fury,_ which was not lost on the other Yokai.

“Is he all right in there?” Dibs asked, looking at Carl.

“He’ll come up for air eventually,” Carl assured him, despite not being convinced himself. Glance at the Yokai slipping in—”Hi Momakase.”

“Hi,” she returned, sitting down and depositing a little pot on the table, pinning a knife near it and looking like a cat that had caught something worthwhile. “So someone actually found a bird on the island and made soup of it.”

“Ooh—who?” Dibs asked, intrigued.

“It doesn’t matter, they’re dead now—I snitched the soup while the rest of the vultures were arguing.” Tap the pot. “How much is a cup worth to you?”

To be fair, something that _wasn’t_ fish-based was actually in high demand on Yokai—they had scraped this island and most of their neighbors clean down to the ground as far as resources went. It was confusing sometimes, because Carl was certain he remembered Callaghan being more fastidious than this.

But then again, they used to be a decidedly peaceful tribe with close neighbors.

“I…have some catgut from the last time we went to that one island—you know, the one with all the feral cats?”

“Mmm, not interested,” Momakase said, twirling her knife again. “And let me guess, that trip was in hopes that something there was more than skin and bones?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny—”

“What about you?” she asked, looking at Obake. “You’ve been annoyingly quiet, even for you.”

“He’s not in right now—but if you leave your name and contact info, he’ll probably get back to you.”

Momakase considered him—snapped her fingers in front of his face several times, startling him back to the here and now.

“What?” he snapped, glaring at her.

“We have bird soup for once,” she announced. “What’s a cup worth to you?”

Obake glanced down at the pot—eyes flicked away. “What time is it?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Probably a little after midnight,” Carl offered. “Why?”

Obake got up. “Then that means I’ve participated in this farce long enough. Good. Night.”

“You haven’t even eaten anything,” Carl pointed out.

Obake stopped—turned just enough to glare at him. “Enlighten me—what was the point of this exercise?”

“Interacting with people?” Carl tried. “You can’t just be by yourself all the time.”

Eyes went very distant before coming back enough to harden in anger. “Watch me.”

Yes, that was the problem, he decided as Obake left—the village ghost had never been interested in foisting interactions, or connections, or anything really beyond being left to his own devices. There had been…he couldn’t really call it hope. Maybe a false positive, when Callaghan had expressed interest in Obake’s devices.

A pity that years later, all any of them had to show for it was a blood-soaked record. A pity Callaghan had gone off the deep end and the rest of them merrily followed him over. They had thought themselves the masters of their own destinies, had any hope for their futures ripped out from under them. And Obake?

Sadly, Carl was certain that one of these days Obake would vanish, just like his name implied. And despite his best efforts, he felt that day was coming soon.

But then again, that’s what their actions had made them all.

Ghosts.

Sleep hadn’t really been forthcoming, trying to catch it had been a waste, he might as well try to address this…whole day, basically. Not really looking forward to it, but he had to address the Goregutter in the room sometime, and sooner was preferable.

Especially considering the alternative was _wait around to get picked for that ‘lucky lottery’ again._ Putz.

Hence why he was once again heading into the woods at the crack of dawn, much earlier than he usually managed but…he really didn’t have anywhere else to be.

Obake gingerly checked through a hole in the bark before cautiously sticking his head in the cove—whatever had set the little Fury off, he didn’t want to be the recipient of that today. Was interested to note that the little dragon was currently laying on the saddle, looking despondent.

“Should I come back later?” he asked, causing it to look up, jump up—got ready to duck back away, paused when it hesitated, looking down, paws mincing….

Watched as it dragged the saddle over, put it down, sat next to it and glanced up at him before looking away, acting reticent.

He couldn’t help the pensive noise as he slipped in, shutting off its means of escape—he wasn’t fool enough to trust it after yesterday. Nor was he in any hurry to get down to eye-level again. “Is this supposed to be you apologizing? Because I have a hard time buying it—what caused that anyway?”

The dragon glanced away, seemed to be considering something….

Padded off to the edge of the pond, sat down, chuffed at him before scratching and smoothing the sand.

Figuring it had to be either an answer or a trap, he crossed over to look down at the dragon. It glanced up, back at the sand, slapped a pawprint in the sand before looking back up and tapping its chest. Back down, slapped two more pawprints on either side of the first, scraped a circle around them, looked back up, tapped its chest again.

“So I was right,” he said, turning this over in his head _attempting communication via two-dimensional means yes now we’re edging over firmly into human intelligence this wasn’t good._ “That bigger one’s related to you.” He wondered if he could bait it here with this one, try taming and riding that one—no, bad idea. A young dragon could be molded and manipulated, the big one had taken a shot at him the night he shot this one down.

The dragon seemed to be considering him…shifted a little, made a pawprint in front of him before looking up. Eye contact for a long time before looking down, making two more pawprints before drawing a circle around them, looking back up at him.

Sigh…he could get what it was angling at. Crouch, kneel, until he was on his knees in front of the little illustration, reach out—

One stroke of his hand smoothed it out of existence.

“Not everyone does _families_ ,” he told it. “And certainly not me.”

The dragon seemed confused—drew a sphere, made some shapes around it that could be dragons if one were feeling generous—looked at him.

“Firstly, people don’t hatch from eggs,” he said, not sure why that was the point he fixated on first. “Secondly…no. Whatever that’s supposed to mean, no.”

It seemed confused—surprised him by tapping claws against its snout before pacing away, shaking its head before pacing back, smoothing out the sand, and then making several pawprints, not stopping after several dozen. Finally did, looked at him.

Look the mess over, trying to figure out what it was trying to tell him—or ask, that expression looked questioning. If the pawprint singularly represented a dragon, then that many…maybe the flight of dragons. Look at it, saw it patting its chest again before looking intently at him.

_Do you belong somewhere?_

That answer was simple: no. No he did not. He had stayed with the Yokai out of some misguided loyalty based on empty promises—he wouldn’t exactly consider this tribe _his_.

…And the old tribe had never considered him _theirs_.

“No,” he answered finally, looking away. “I don’t have one of those either.” Anger started simmering up—“Not everyone _needs_ somewhere to belong.”

Silence. The deafening kind, thanks to no fauna—

Started when he felt a paw on his knee.

Look to see the dragon looking up at him, looking away, expression…sad. Considering. Move its paw, look the sand up and down…finally brush the nearest sand clear before making a pawprint again, adding two more…adding five more after that. Look pointedly at him, add another pawprint before drawing a circle around them all—look back at him with a soft croon.

He considered the whole thing, wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be. “I don’t know.”

The dragon sighed, closed its eyes and leaned against him—surprised him after a minute when he realized the soft shaking he was feeling was it crying.

Pat it gingerly…carefully haul it into his lap after a while, hug it against him as it curled up tighter against him…wonder of wonders, he was just… _lonely_.

“I’ll try not to leave you alone for so long next time,” he promised.

Hiro sighed, rested his head on Obake’s elbow. No. No he didn’t want a broken dragon—

“Come now, what happened to that fire you had?” he asked, jostling him a little. “I’ll take a dragon that tries to bite my hand off over this—why are you like this?” Glance at the circled pawprints—

Ah. Perhaps that was why. Hiro was used to being surrounded by dragons—maybe that was the trigger. The Terrors had reminded him that he belonged to a huge flight of dragons, and that being reduced to one was….

That would suggest that this dragon was depressed, that he knew the difference of being with others versus being by himself—like dogs or cats separated from their litters for the first time. Maybe him leaving it for so long was a bad idea.

Consider…he was going to have to be careful. He needed the dragon dependent upon him, but he couldn’t afford any more slip-ups.

_If they’re intelligent, then they can be manipulated._

…he was going to have to step up his game if he was to survive this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obake quotes Treasure Planet at one point here…and then there’s me, singing the song this chapter’s titled after…I blame this one for prompting Chapter 10’s name change. Momakase’s also quoting a Tumblr account of someone’s German teacher and explaining what happened to that poor nightjar in Chapter 7. Me, insisting that there’s nothing alive on the island except Yokai and then recalling that line: oops, time to fix.
> 
> Yes, that one scene is in reference to the scene between Arlo and Spot in The Good Dinosaur—I like that scene. And it crosses over nicely with Hiccup and Toothless’s sand drawings so…here we are. The term ‘long-paw’ comes from Deadly-Bagel’s fic A Gift of Wings, which I definitely recommend.
> 
> In other news…I would like to formally apologize to any native Yiddish speakers. ^^;
> 
> And I wasn’t expecting the emotions but bam there they are WHY ARE EMOTIONS SO HARD!?


	15. Self-Awareness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 15, everybody! I feel like this is progress….
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney  
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks  
> Monsters, Inc. © 2001 Pixar (Tadashi/Older Brother quotes Mike Wazowski)

Hiro couldn’t help but be a little suspicious of the Yokai the next day.

It was to be expected—Obake was being…how could he explain this…overtly attentive, focused on him, stayed for most of the day, left at night, was back the next morning so early that he was almost convinced he hadn’t left at all but for the fresh fish, watching him consistently and with such intensity that it made his scales want to crawl off. Wait, was that how Yokai got dragon hides? because if so, _ew. So. Much. EW._

But two could play that game—hence why he kept his attention riveted on the Yokai, watching him with as much intensity as he could muster, picking apart his motions and movements and did he see a nervous twitch there? Mwaha!

And he seriously had to take that win because the Yokai barely reacted to his intense scrutiny, would keep his back to a wall and sit crosslegged (which Hiro still had to work to wrap his head around _HOW_ did Yokai limbs _DO THAT._ I mean, he knew but _HOW_ ), scribbling on those stacks of dead leaves.

Okay, continued attention wasn’t doing it—march up, forcing his movements to be bold and sure, forced himself to _not_ flinch bodily away when the Yokai’s attention snapped back to him. Wary, good…maybe….

He really wasn’t sure how he wanted the Yokai to react to him. On the one paw, Obake being interested meant Hiro got fed. On the other…Obake’s intentions could be very, very hazardous. Going on to the third paw, _not_ playing along with whatever game this Yokai was playing could see Hiro parting with his hide. And on the final…wait did he have a fourth point? Ah, yes, the fact that by shooting him down and breaking his wing, this Yokai had Hiro entirely dependent upon him.

It was a very clever snare, one he hadn’t spotted until it was tight around his neck.

And it wasn’t a snare he could fight his way out of, either—his wing had to heal first. He had to get this stuff off of him. The metal part of the wing-healer was clamped to his wing so he couldn’t worry it off himself.

…Which meant he needed to have a happy Yokai handy for when his wing _did_ heal.

Huff, pad away, thinking—okay. Say we humor the Yokai for now, play along. He just had to remember who was _really_ in charge here—don’t let himself get tame, remember that he was a _Night Fury_ , the awesomest, most amazingest dragon ever yes those were real words because Night Furies were just. THAT. _AWESOME._

So. He could do this. He could _totally_ tame a Yokai and get out of this in one piece. Just…stay calm, be cool, don’t trust it, and assume that it’s a lot smarter than you think it is.

That was obvious enough, he decided, looking at the drawings in the sand—drawings that it had _understood!_ Honeysuckle would just go _nuts_ about this—the concept that some intelligent other species that didn’t speak Dragonese could still communicate through sand drawings? She’d be all over this, to the point that he’d have to get Older-Brother’s help in peeling her off—

Couldn’t help but look up, scanning the skies even though he knew no dragon in his right mind would fly over Yokai during the day—Older-Brother had to still be alive and looking for him, he _had_ to be—

…But if he found him now, he’d want to take him back to the nest—and darnit, he needed Obake to get this thing off of him when his wing healed.

Okay, taking a Yokai back to the nest was probably very high on the list of _very bad ideas_ —they’d have to stay here, which was also high on the list of _very bad ideas_ ….But, if Older-Brother were here…well he’d really help with ironing out his whole scheme here. Probably have it running a lot smoother than it was, seeing it from all the angles—

He wished Older-Brother were here.

Huff—what was it Older-Light-Fury said? _Wishing is fine, but if wishes were fishes we’d all be too fat to fly._ The sad thing was, Older-Brother _wasn’t_ here, it was still himself with a Yokai.

So…look at it like Older-Brother _were_ here.

Turn to eye the Yokai critically, sitting down as he did so, _totally_ not bothered by the expression Obake was giving him right now—actually no he could use this because that expression _seriously_ smacked of Older-Brother’s _what idiocy are you plotting NOW_ look. So…pretend it’s Older-Brother sitting over there. What is he saying?

_Are you INSANE you can’t train a YOKAI those things are KILLING MACHINES just wait until you fall asleep and then WHAMMO it’ll steal your hide you’re a sitting duck little bro you canNOT be serious about this plan—_

Okay you know what fast-forward through Older-Brother’s freakout we really didn’t have all day here—make a little buzzing noise in the back of his throat as he visualized Older-Brother’s pacing and ranting, wait until he slowed down and sighed before tuning back in…hmm wait no this was his _trying to reason his brother out of a perfectly good plan_ stage, little farther than this…ah, there we go.

_Okay, so we’re committed to this TOTALLY INSANE scheme which you already know I think is a BAD IDEA,_ Imaginary-Older-Brother said, pausing in his imaginary pacing to glare at him—Hiro gave a little nod, aware of the fact that Obake was still watching out of the corner of his eye—hmm, Older-Brother wouldn’t be turning his back on a Yokai—have him glare at Obake. Actually he’d probably be glaring at Obake anyway for shooting him down.

_Okay,_ Imaginary-Older-Brother huffed. _So. You’re going to train a Yokai. How will you feed it? Shelter it? What are its needs?_

_“Okay, firstly I’m pretty sure Obake is male, so remember that,”_ Hiro muttered, waffling his good wing a little. _“Secondly, as it turns out Obake is pretty self-sufficient.”_

_So that means you have nothing over it— him, fine. So how are you going to get him to behave?_

_“Pretty sure it’s a mutual trust thing.”_

_So you trust him not to stab you in the back?_

Okay, so Imaginary-Older-Brother was still hung up on the _this is a bad idea_ portion of his rant. Have this later, useful stuff only please….

_Right now in this relationship it’s all about what you’re giving him,_ Imaginary-Older-Brother insisted. _What is he giving you? Fish? Kind of flimsy considering he took your flight from you._

_“Like Mountain-King is any better,”_ Hiro muttered, ears flat.

The good thing about imaginary older brothers was that Hiro actually _won_ the arguments—huff, shake his head, pad back over to Obake—he thought he might be calm enough to deal with Yokai at the moment.

“Practicing for your next oratory?” Obake asked drily as he neared—ear flaps up, confused at the strange words. Okay, so we’ve established that Yokainese was an entirely different language from Dragonese—that still didn’t mean he understood what Obake was saying at any given time.

_“You know what, I’m just going to pretend that’s you telling me that I’m awesome and that you’re sorry and that you’ll be a good Yokai and behave yourself from now on,”_ Hiro decided, nodding to himself. Glance at the bundle of dry leaves Obake was scratching at with a stick—

And leaving markings, he noticed.

Now this was interesting—was this like the drawing in the sand? Did Yokai communicate through drawings? Maybe he was approaching this wrong the whole time.

“Hey—stop— _down,_ Hiro,” Obake protested, when Hiro tried to see better—finally shoved Hiro off his knee—

Hiro slipped under his arm, well-versed in worming his way around recalcitrant older siblings—Obake didn’t stand a chance. Crawl back onto his back leg, pausing to consider if maybe he was bending it wrong and _that_ was the problem (although he couldn’t see how it could possibly be in a more painful contortion than it already was in)—sniff at the dry-leaf bundle, try to make sense of the markings the stick had left.

_“Hey,”_ he protested, when Obake lifted it out of his reach—put his paws on Obake’s chest, trying to stretch to see what was on the leaves—bat a paw when Obake tried to push him off—“ _No stop—no wait stop that tickles stAHAHAHAP!”_

Obake was barking _success_ , didn’t let up even when Hiro was a squirming mess on the ground—finally left him to catch his own breath.

Laying there, it occurred to him that he had his belly exposed to a hyper-predator, and said hyper-predator wasn’t taking advantage of it.

Maybe he wasn’t dangerous.

Yeah right—not when he came in regularly smelling of dragon blood—

_Think about it—we always see them when we’re attacking their nest._

Maybe the Terrors were right—maybe everything they knew about Yokai were wrong.

Roll to his stomach finally, look to see Obake sagging against the wall in a more comfortable position, watching him and looking amused—

Dry leaves dangling from his paw.

It was a perfect moment and he seized it—was bounding across the length of the cove seconds later with his mouth full, Obake barking _hey!_ after him. Hahaha, not a chance!

Scrabble up a rock where he had some wiggle room as far as playing keepaway, spit the leaves out to look at them better. Gently spread them a little to better look and compare….

Hmm, completely coated with squiggles with only the occasional sand-drawing-type-thing, but if he looked closely the shapes in the squiggles repeated themselves. Did this—was this how Yokai communicated? But they had their own language! Why would they need to communicate in scribbles?

This didn’t quite make sense—it felt like he was on the cusp of a greater understanding, but didn’t see the footholds to scramble his way up. Focus on the sand-drawings instead, he knew he could puzzle those out—

Glance over at the sound of Obake trying to haul himself up onto the rock as well—haha, not having proper paws is coming back to bite you, isn’t it?

_“Give me those,”_ Obake snarled, straining for the dry leaves—Hiro smoothed them out of the way easily enough, sidled over out of reach to continue his examination…looked back up, pointing at one of the drawings.

_“Hey—this is me!”_ he said, kind of chuffed that he figured that out—this was him, rendered weirdly onto a dry leaf—like a sand-drawing, but with more detail. Not the real thing, but much better than just scratches in the sand. He wondered how he could get this to Honeysuckle to show her—

Blinked when the dry leaves were snatched away—looked to see that Obake had finally managed to crawl onto the rock with him, was glaring at him as he held the dry leaves away—

Glare deepening into a glower when Hiro climbed up onto his knee, undaunted, pointing and pawing at the dry leaves.

_“That there that there—that’s me,”_ he repeated, looking at Obake and pointing at himself. _“How did you do that?”_

Obake seemed sort of confused, lowered the dry leaves (with a firm grip, Hiro noticed)—watched as Hiro tapped a claw on the tiny sand-drawing of himself.

_“That’s me,”_ he repeated, tapping himself on the chest again as he looked at Obake. _“How’d you do that? Those are leaves and I’ve seen you poking them with sticks—just—HOW?”_

There was that weird hungry look on Obake’s face again, heavily laced with something he’d seen before on him—confusion, maybe, laced with intrigue…he was as focused on learning more about dragons as Hiro was about learning more about Yokai, and it occurred to Hiro that he might be putting his species as a whole in danger like this.

But at the same time….

Obake seemed to have come to a decision—turned one of the dry leaves over to reveal a blank surface, pull a stick out of his hide-that-ate-things (SUPER CREEPY), put the stick to the leaf—

Hiro watched, fascinated, as he did the same sort of thing he did with the sand, but on a leaf—a circle, then ear flaps, then nubs—lines, and then eyes and a snout and mouth and head spines and then a neck and then his own dark coloration appearing—

When it was done Obake considered it, considered Hiro, made some more weird scribbles underneath the little sand-drawing of Hiro.

He couldn’t resist tapping it when Obake was finished, almost convinced it would peel itself off the leaf and be a mini-Hiro. _“How did you do this?”_ he asked. _“I mean, I know I sat here and watched you but HOW.”_ And what were the scribbles underneath? Did they mean something?

Look up at Obake, notice him watching him carefully—

Realize that he recognized _that_ particular expression—not from seeing it, but he knew it inside and out, knew intricately what it felt like _making_ that expression.

That was the _coming up with a new scheme_ expression, and Hiro could already hear Older-Brother now:

_What kind of mess have you dug up THIS time?_

Okay, so what have we learned besides the fact that apparently _the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself_ was ticklish and really not deserving of such a ferocious title?

Well let’s start with the fact that they were self-aware, a capability most animals were lacking. Humans had self-awareness, several primates did, _manta rays_ of all things did—and now apparently dragons. He was almost certain that if he presented Hiro with a mirror he’d recognize himself instead of assuming there was another Night Fury present. That was interesting. Add another one to the pile of _dragons are more intelligent than we first thought._

Well, Night Furies were at least—ah, but he didn’t really have the opportunity to test with other dragons. He supposed he could try setting traps on the rest of Yokai, but he’d have a greater chance of catching a Yokai than a dragon—testing that would have to wait until _after_ he escaped.

Also on the list of _Night Furies are smarter than first thought…_ if he didn’t know any better, he’d say that Hiro was trying to _read_ what he had been writing.

This one he dismissed out of hand—what purpose did dragons have with a written language? They raided, ate fish, slept, and flew—they had no need to document past events or communicate long-distance, and he was certain the flight that attacked them didn’t exchange notes on the how and wherefore of raiding…okay fine by that logic the Yokai didn’t need a written language either—

Blink, staring at a ceiling above a bed he was really wasting—he…really couldn’t remember the last time he had read something, contrasting mightily with Granville’s rule, where he devoured everything he could get his hands on.

Sigh, swing himself out of bed since he wasn’t getting any sleep—that was the point of escaping. Once he was out of here he’d read all the books he cared to. Have a room dedicated to them. Getting out was the priority.

But…since dragons—or at least, Night Furies—seemed intelligent enough…he wanted to test this, this latest hairbrained scheme in a long laundry list of hairbrained schemes.

Hence why he snitched a basket’s worth of small fish prior to his next trip to the cove. Someone might catch him one of these days, might comment on his increase in fish consumption, but today was not that day.

Besides, he had other things to concern himself with.

“Here, Hiro,” he called, kneeling in one of the sandy patches. The dragon padded over, still a little uneasy…maybe now wasn’t the time to be trying this.

“Sit,” he ordered, testing the water—the dragon did so—was rewarded with a fish. Seemed amenable enough…now to test said recent hairbrained thought. Smooth out a patch of sand, turn over how he was going to do this…pulled out another fish.

“Fish,” he told Hiro, indicating the fish with his free hand. Hiro’s ear flaps went up—probably because of the promise of more food. Put the fish down—Hiro snapped it up with little hesitation. Now.

Draw the common Nortakanic symbol for _fish_ in the sand.

“Fish,” he repeated, indicating the rune.

Hiro looked at the symbol, at him…seemed confused. Of course. Dragons had no need for written languages—he wasn’t entirely certain they were on board for _spoken_ languages.

_But_ —if they were _that_ intelligent…this would be diverting at least. And he had some patience for this idea, so there was that. Brush it out, draw it again, repeat the word. Brush, draw, repeat. Eventually had to concede that this wasn’t happening today, cycled through the rest of the commands he knew Hiro had down, worked more on _stay, shake,_ and _high-five._ Some, like the order to _come,_ were important to continued survival. Others, like _high-five,_ really served no other purpose than entertainment and keeping the dragon engaged. Right now it was trapped in a cove and most likely lacking the usual enrichments a dragon could have, whatever those were—it needed distractions to keep it from getting bored and possibly destructive.

And judging from the past couple of days, leaving it alone for too long just didn’t end well.

Work on _heel_ next, which seemed to mostly work because he was using a fish as the carrot—sit down as the sun started sinking to work on his notes and document progress thus far. Again, he’d be having to work on everything, keep the dragon focused and engaged….

A broken dragon would honestly be easier. But that didn’t provide enough of a challenge for him—challenge! Yes he understood that he’d be here a while, the dragon wasn’t going to explode in size, but he didn’t really need training it to be _challenging._

And yet….

The dragon was busy chewing on a log again, seemingly in a better mood, and honestly that was how his mind was with this plan right now. Simplicity had its merits—simplicity was also an oft-foreign concept to him. Any fool could make a simple plan work, but it took a special kind of intelligence to see a complex one through to fruition.

And his writing test, everything—if dragons were as intelligent as people….

Broken people didn’t quite do what you wanted. They lacked the heart, the drive, the will. But someone you manipulated into your corner, that you tricked into following you—well, they’d die on the hill you pointed out.

He, unfortunately, was a perfect example of both.

Sigh, wave the dragon off when it looked at him in confusion. He didn’t have the time nor inclination to reflect on past mistakes—that wasn’t helping him _now_. What he needed was to stay focused on the future, on his admittedly flimsy plan to get out of here—but he’d make it work. He’d definitely make it work.

He had no other choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self-awareness is an actual scientific term and is basically the concept of “does this thing recognize itself?” Humans are obviously capable of it, but so are many primates and weirdly manta rays. The mirror test Obake mentions is a standard means of testing this.
> 
> As for the written language…when I was first brainstorming I waffled on using Norse or Katakana, thought “hey it’s a fantasy world, we can say it’s like a weird hybrid of the two.” The word we end up using to describe this chimera runic language? Nortakanic, based a bit on the language names in Books of the Raksura and ends up being a pun for sounding like North Atlantic, where HTTYD theoretically takes place.


	16. Exercising Body and Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 16, everybody! Some background on our favorite dragons this week, and we check in with the others too….
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney  
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks

Honeysuckle was in shock.

They all were, that’s what Healing-Talons called this—when something so awful happened that the mind refused to acknowledge it and shut down, body following. In flight it was known as going yeep, but she wasn’t flying her claws were gripping the stone as they had been when she saw Mountain-King bat Older-Brother into that cave and freeze him inside.

She was still frozen on her perch, staring at the horror that had befallen her friend—her oldest friend, she remembered running smack into him while she was still learning how to run around the nesting island and ending up in a tangle of wings that Healing-Talons had to help them get out of. Older-Brother was just Baby-Night-Fury at the time, had invited her on what he was calling an epic adventure of exploring the island (Blue-Firescales had actually been the one to call it an epic adventure when he tumbled into them a little later and learned what they were doing)—back when they had a few months of peace, of innocence, of not knowing what awaited them at the main nest. She remembered talking with him when the older Furies flew to the nesting island one winter, how they had debated on leaving, plotted with their friends on abandoning this nest and their cruel ruler in favor of exploring the wide world tempting them just beyond the horizon. Blue-Firescales had called their wing Big Wing Six, had declared he’d compose an epic saga to describe their awesome adventures—

And then the older Furies had come back with a baby Night Fury riding on the back of Older-Brother’s sire.

_That_ was when he was Older-Brother. Absolutely taken by his younger sibling, scolding his parents for not _telling him_ they were planning on another egg he had been _so mad_ at missing his younger brother’s hatching—would _not_ let him leave his sight would let him tag along on their much-edited adventures was thrilled to death at a younger sibling….

Little-Brother would be the only younger sibling he’d have.

He had become fiercely protective after that, wouldn’t let Little-Brother take any risks at all—had debated with the others long and hard about leaving, could never work around the _how_. Mountain-King didn’t want to lose his last two Night Furies, after all.

Was certainly all right with reducing his Fury count to two male Night Furies and two female Light Furies, though.

Shook herself, the sharp wailing of Older-Light-Fury sending prickles of cold up her scales—

No. No. Older-Brother _had_ to be alive. He _had_ to.

Look at the ice, at Mountain-King, glaring at Older-Light-Fury like he wanted to ice her too but couldn’t—not after using his shot for the day on Older-Brother—

Slip away, taking the long way that was protected from his eyes—through thin crevasses that scraped at her scales despite being so thin ribs showed—

Finally bumped her snout against cold ice.

Glance to make sure she wasn’t seen—start scraping at the ice, digging as best she could. Light Furies were built for the cold, had talons that could grip the ice and claw, but even at that it was slow going—

Jump, gasping at a bump to her flank—

Healing-Talons gave her an apologetic look, motioned a little for her to move over—

Wooly Howls had claws that could grip ice too.

They had to slip away, the cacophony that sounded like more than just one dragon keeping Mountain-King distracted from their work fading—found a hidden cave to rest fitfully in, certain they’d be hearing of their treachery soon….

Woke up to the rest of their wing in the cave with them, Older-Light-Fury keeping watch, Swift-Strike perched in front of them with Blue-Firescales vibrating with excitement and Greenscales trembling with fear.

_“So. Here’s the plan,”_ Swift-Strike said quietly.

The plan was simple: two teams, alternating—one would work to dig out Older-Brother, the other would distract Mountain-King. They’d stir up the whole nest if they had to, just so long as they got their friend free.

They spent the rest of the day hashing out the teams and time taken—it would have to be at night, when Mountain-King was asleep, or during the day when he was thoroughly distracted. They had to hope that with six dragons they could cycle through and still have enough sharp claws for the work. They had to work quickly before Older-Brother ran out of air or starved.

But they would do it. They had to do it.

Because Honeysuckle had never envisioned a world without the Night Fury brothers, and she wasn’t about to start now.

Obake kept up the scribbling in the sand the next couple of days, enough that Hiro was convinced he was trying to show him something.

It was why, in the middle of all the other things, of _sit_ and _high-five_ and _sit up_ and a bunch of other ridiculous things that Yokai apparently gave fish for, that he tried squiggling a claw through the sand as well when Obake did it again. Watch him carefully—

Obake bobbed his head, like dragons did when calibrating their surroundings for a pounce. “Getting there,” he said, wiping the sand blank and making that same scribble again. “Fish.”

Yeah, except there was no fish in sight _why_ did he keep making that same scribble and saying that—

Wait, hold it—

He was making the same sort of scribble.

Watch Obake carefully, squiggle his claw through the sand again, stare intently at the scribble he wiped out—

And then drew _the exact same scribble_ in the sand.

“Fish,” Obake repeated.

Hiro looked at the squiggle critically. _“Is this like what you’ve been doing on those dry leaves? Is this Yokai-language? Why do you need a squiggle-language on top of a regular language?”_ And why was he insisting on this?...

Only one way to find out.

Examine the squiggle closely, painstakingly try to recreate the squiggle Obake kept making, poking his tongue out a little and glad he had his teeth sheathed. Look at Obake—

Who seemed surprised, _not_ surprised, and very, _very_ pleased—like he had flipped over a rock hoping for a lizard and got a big fat fish instead. _“Very_ good—clever boy.”

And then there was a fish on the sand.

Hiro was quick to slurp it up—watched, ear flaps up, as Obake made the exact same squiggle again.

“Fish,” Obake repeated.

_Now_ Hiro was intrigued—did this squiggle mean _fish_ in the Yokai-scribble-language? Was copying it what triggered the fish? Test, try imitating that scribble again—

Got another fish.

Hiro was quite pleased with this latest deduction—not the least because it got him fish—was bouncing up and down on his front paws as Obake wiped the sand clean and made a different scribble.

“Hiro,” he said.

“ _Yes?”_ Hiro asked, looking at him with ear flaps up—looked at the scribbles when Obake tapped them, then pointed at him. _“Oh right.”_ Make the fish-scribble again.

Obake made a pensive noise at that.

“Probably too early to be trying to move into abstract concepts,” he decided, smoothing the sand out. “You writing _one_ rune is impressive enough.”

So was it _only_ this squiggle that got the fish? Try making it again. _“Fish?”_

Obake considered it—

Held a fish up. “Fish.”

Hiro had it happily snapped up before either of them registered that he had taken it out of Obake’s hand. Look at each other—

Obake gingerly petted him. “That might be progress.”

Maybe. So long as he remembered who was in charge, that he wasn’t the one getting tamed into a pet.

Except….

Except the more he was seeing, the less he was convinced that either one of them could qualify as a pet. Obake was demonstrating that Yokai were as intelligent as dragons, dangerously so. And Obake…this thing with the squiggle, and other things before…he was seeing that dragons were as intelligent as Yokai. They were different species, different shapes, different builds, different reasoning, different everything, but….

But maybe, they could learn to treat each other as equals.

He wanted to huff at how ridiculous that sounded, but he could see that Obake could see this, was slowly editing how he behaved around Hiro to reflect this. Hiro thought he was too, was having to be more careful around him, around this thing that was smart enough to communicate, to figure out dragons….

It had been so much easier to think of them simply as monsters.

But that was wrong—or at least, not entirely accurate. Obake, at least, showed that Yokai could be intelligent, could be clever, could be more than just mindless monsters. Yokai could have further reasoning and life beyond killing dragons.

So why didn’t they?

_The only time you see them is when we’re raiding their nest._

Maybe that was it? Maybe the Yokai had an awful alpha like they did, that forced them out to kill others for his own gain. Maybe Obake had that same desperation that Hiro and Older-Brother had, when they were squashed in a little crevasse for the night and quietly muttering to each other about how they and their wing would fly _far_ away and never come back.

Maybe they could—maybe he could convince them that this was a good idea—they had a tame Yokai, Obake could be helpful….

He didn’t know. He really, truly, seriously needed Older-Brother—the _real_ Older-Brother, not some imaginary version. He needed someone to bounce off of and hash this crazy plan out all the way, to knock him out of the rut he was pacing in so he could figure this out—

Tickling at his ear flaps made him twitch away, glare at Obake cackling at his expense. Well _two_ could play at _that_ game! AMBUSH ATTACK!

It was the sort of thing he did to Older-Brother _all the time,_ usually ended up with at least one successfully slobbery ear flap and Older-Brother pretending to be vanquished before turning the tide and squashing him. He wasn’t expecting _that,_ but he was expecting _something._

Certainly wasn’t expecting Obake to curl up tight, protecting himself before lashing out and knocking him off.

_“What is your PROBLEM?”_ Hiro demanded, shaking himself as he bounced away. _“It was just playing—I had my teeth sheathed and everything!”_ Glare at the Yokai scrambling away—

Like he was scared of him.

Huff— _idiot._ Obake was used to dragons attacking him, and what did Hiro do, exactly? What did it look like? They might have been making progress, but they weren’t doing it _that_ fast. He had to be patient.

And, you know, fix this.

Mince up to Obake, looking apologetic and trying to ignore the Yokai still wanting to scurry away from him—flop down, roll to his back, careful of his broken wing, showing his neck and belly.

_“I trust you, see?”_ he offered. _“You can trust me too. No being all scared like that.”_

Obake didn’t do anything, but he did stop trying to put distance between them, watching warily instead. Roll back upright, mince forward again, keeping his belly to the ground, nudged at his back paw a little—still totally acting like Hiro wanted to eat him. Ew, no—if Yokai were as intelligent as dragons then…then that was just wrong. Totally, completely, _wrong_.

But how could he get Obake to see this?...Ah.

Bound away to the carry-tool Obake had brought with him, root around in it, snorting at the metal-claw that wasn’t even the size of a Terror’s claw—there! Tug the little _saddle_ out, tug out the not-vine, drag both over to Obake, sit down with ear flaps up. Here, see? Totally open to doing that weird thing you wanted.

Obake was definitely suspicious. “What are you even up to?”

Hiro wondered if every dragon had a not-dragon counterpart, because that _seriously_ sounded like Older-Brother just then. Nudge the saddle closer, continue the innocent look until Obake sighed, signaling resistance breaking.

“I suppose we could use the exercise,” he decided finally, picking up the not-vine.

Older-Light-Fury decided she was living up to the _fury_ part of her name.

She had done her best—when her clutchmate died she had taken care of her hatchlings. Was she ready for hatchlings? No! Did she do her best anyway? Totally! Should she have gotten some advice on parenting? _Sure!_ Should she have insisted Little-Brother _not_ go on a raid? Most definitely!

Was she boiling mad enough that she was seriously considering taking on Mountain-King by herself? Abso _lute_ ly. Why wasn’t she?

Because there was a slim chance that Older-Brother was still alive.

Healing-Talons thought that he had a pocket of air, that if they hurried and dug him out he’d make it. But they had to be careful—had to do it when Mountain-King wasn’t watching, and he was watching that corner a _lot_.

It was why she was helping with the commotions they were making, hissing and starting fights and raging against the injustice of it all—wingmates and hatchlings, both gone.

Sometimes it was just wailing songs, others who had lost loved ones joining in, for once ignoring Mountain-King’s raging that they be quiet.

His control no longer touched her—the anger and grief had formed a wall, his slimy mental touch sliding off of it and frying in its heat. It benefited her to behave otherwise right now, but…as soon as Older-Brother was free….

They were leaving. They were getting as far away from here as possible. She didn’t care if it was south where it benefited Night Furies more than Light Furies—her boys weren’t staying anywhere near here.

Her boys….

It ached, the hope that Little-Brother was alive, chances slimmer with every passing day. She wanted to believe, wanted to hope, but—

She had to know.

So when Mountain-King marshalled another raid together, she went with them, not waiting for permission. No one commented once she was in the air above and ahead of them—Light Furies directed flights, and Honeysuckle was with the others, trying to sneak around and dig Older-Brother out.

She knew the flight was confused when she directed them down to a sizeable island about halfway between their island and the Yokai-nest. It was a proper resting point, yes, but her being there wasn’t exactly approved of by their alpha.

The alpha that could no longer break through her fury.

_“We’re not going to Yokai,”_ she told them. _“You’re going to spend the day resting and eating, and when we’re expected back you’re going to catch some fish and bring them back to Mountain-King.”_

There was murmuring, yes, but none of the dragons really objected—the Yokai-nest claimed several dragons per raid, and many of them were more than happy to pass on visiting. Most of the flight happily curled up to sleep, no fear of being eaten or frozen hanging over their heads.

Older-Light-Fury sat on an outcropping, glaring in the direction of Yokai.

Felt a huff of hot air on her scales, looked to see Nadder-Mother-to-Everybody watching her with concern. So named because she had a habit of taking any hatchling with no mother or father under her wing, was _technically_ mother to Nadder-Not-Gronkle.

_“You’re going, aren’t you?”_ she asked, indicating the direction the Yokai-nest was.

Older-Light-Fury sighed. _“I can get there faster, undetected—I have to know.”_

Rattle her spines nervously. _“I understand.”_ Look at her. _“And…will you be coming back?”_

Blink slowly, look at her, dragging herself back to the here and now.

_“Yes,”_ she said finally. _“Older-Brother is still trapped. But…as soon as I get my boys back…yes. Me and whoever’s willing to come.”_

Nadder-Mother-to-Everybody huffed, looked back out to the ocean, spines shifting thoughtfully.

_“I’m pretty sure I can get my hatchlings organized, although a few of them I won’t be able to tell until it’s time—they’re still too young to be discreet,”_ she decided finally, looking back to her.

Older-Light-Fury’s heart thumped painfully—it…she had basically been thinking her, her boys, and their friends, but….

But she wasn’t the only one hurt by Mountain-King’s actions—not the only one who had lost loved ones.

She nodded, expression firm. _“I’ll let you know when I can.”_

Nadder-Mother-to-Everybody nodded, rubbed her jaw against hers—she melted into the affection, needing it—needing the assurance that it would be all right, even if it did make her heart ache for her clutchmate.

_“Now get some sleep,”_ Nadder-Mother-to-Everybody said. _“You’re going to need it for the flight ahead.”_

She nodded, looked back to the horizon with trepidation.

Yes, she would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In other news, Aunt Cass as a dragon puts up with nothing and has zero effs to give.
> 
> Also, dragons have looser concepts of family than people and don’t bat an eye at mixed nest if you don’t believe me ask that Nadder. And the term "Yeep" comes from the Guardians of Ga'Hoole series by Kathryn Lasky. Love that series. :D


	17. Cloudy With a Chance of Furies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 17, everybody! Sorry for missing last week, all the writing juices were going to Books II and III of this series. ^^;
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney  
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks

Okay, good news, Night Furies were indeed smart enough to at least _imitate_ a rune drawn in the ground. Repeated testing would be required to fully confirm, but for now it counted as another trick Hiro had learned. In all, he thought he was handling things _very_ well thus far.

Except for the part where Hiro tackled him.

He could tell afterwards that Hiro had been trying to _play_ , of all things, except that simply didn’t jive at the time—at the time, he had figured that his scheme had finally come back to literally bite him, and that was that.

The simple fact of the matter was, he still didn’t trust the little dragon.

Certainly didn’t trust him when it was obvious he was a schemer too—him fetching the saddle and leash was a question mark, as was him being okay with having it on after his meltdown from before. What was this, exactly?

“I’m beginning to think I had the misfortune to shoot down a dragon who thinks exactly like I do,” he told Hiro after a few minutes of the dragon pacing around at the end of the leash. Hiro paused to look at him. “I can’t decide whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

Everyone and their mother would probably argue _bad thing_ —the general consensus had always been that one Obake was bad enough.

_Oh no, here he comes now._

Shake those dour thoughts from his head, focus on the task at hand—he wasn’t entirely convinced that Hiro _wouldn’t_ bolt as soon as they were out of the cove; he needed a backup plan in case he couldn’t keep a hold on the rope. Ah.

Hiro watched with interest as Obake tied the other end of the rope to his belt, tested it to make sure it was good and tight—looped the rest around a hand before leading Hiro to the cove entrance.

“Well, let’s test this mess, shall we?”

Hiro seemed more than willing to, followed him closely as he squeezed back out, bumped against his leg when he paused to make sure there was no one in the area….

Minced out after Obake, sniffing at everything with interest. So far so good—

As he expected, Hiro tried to bolt.

What he _didn’t_ expect was the little dragon being strong enough to yank him flat.

His next clear recollection was a few minutes later, face-first in the sod with Hiro sniffing about his head with concern.

“So the belt works,” he groaned, pushing himself upright—and then settling for rolling to his back when that wasn’t happening in the next five minutes. “You. Bad dragon.”

“Wuff,” Hiro noised, sitting down.

The rest of the walk went relatively well—now that Obake had Hiro’s measure, he could brace himself for any more sudden yanks. And Hiro seemed happier for being out of the cove.

Hiro also seemed warier as well, apparently reading Obake’s own caution and reacting accordingly. Clever boy.

He rewarded Hiro with the last fish from the oilcloth when they returned to the cove, scratched behind the ear flaps….

Considered the sky, thick with clouds and the distant rumble of thunder. Looked to be the first real storm since he had shot Hiro down. The sort that—if he wanted to continue having a _live_ dragon—he probably shouldn’t leave Hiro out in. No guarantee that any shelter he constructed would be suitable, and the same structure that kept Hiro in would also see the cove swamped. Think, come up with something clever….

No, that wasn’t clever—but in the short term he had no choice.

“Well,” he sighed, packing up. “It’s not like I’m known for making the sensible choice—come on, Hiro.”

Older-Light-Fury woke up later to a fish by her nose, Nadder-Mother-to-Everybody sitting next to her with a fierce expression on her face—she guessed that the Nadder had been keeping everyone away from her and the fish.

_“There’s a storm coming in—I can smell it,”_ Nadder-Mother-to-Everybody said as Older-Light-Fury ate the fish. _“We should be able to weather it out here, but you be careful.”_

_“I will,”_ she said, standing. _“And—thank you.”_

Nadder-Mother-to-Everybody touched noses with her. _“I get it, don’t worry. Just—don’t you get….”_

Fierce determination flooded through her. _“I won’t.”_

And with that, she launched herself into the air.

The wind picked up as the sun flew to its nest beneath the horizon, bringing with it memories of her clutchmate and her beau—Stormchaser had loved flying in storms despite the danger, and Older-Light-Fury would often fly herself ragged trying to catch up. Thunderstrike had impressed her with his own aerial tricks, and Older-Light-Fury had eventually learned to enjoy having the male Night Fury tag along on their storm flights.

But now all that was gone, and all that was left of them—her memories and their hatchlings—threatened to slip through her talons to be gone forever.

No. No she would not lose another one that was precious to her.

Flap, flap harder, angle into the storm, not worrying about lightning or a potential Skrill—it was going to go over the Yokai-nest, but if she could get there before the rain washed all scent away—

Charge up a blast, fly through it—glance to confirm that her scales had turned transparent, arrow down to the island.

Not even a ghost could see her now.

Hiro had seemed very confused as he followed Obake through the darkening woods, confusion deepening when he realized their destination.

Obake, meanwhile, had paused on the edge of the woods, considering the village in general and that annoying open space between them and his house in particular. Everyone _should_ be seeking shelter from the storm, but…no. No chances.

Crouch down next to Hiro, considering his options. He could try getting Hiro into his rucksack, but that would leave the question of the rope, and if he needed to run he also needed to be able to drop something weighing him down. He could try having Hiro cling to the inside of his coat—it wouldn’t affect his outline or be noticeable. It was just that the main problem with either of those plans was that it hinged on Hiro actually _listening_ to him.

Wave his hand over Hiro’s head, getting his attention, bring it down, one finger up to focus him.

“Listen to me,” he said sternly. “I know you understand me—what we’re about to engage in is highly dangerous and based on me not wanting to risk you drowning or freezing to death. But if you want to avoid a remarkably painful death, you need to do _exactly_ as I say. Understand?”

Hiro shuffled on his feet, glancing around as though weighing his options—finally looked back at him and dipped his head. It could be translated as submissiveness or agreement, but at this point he was going to take it. Think….

Finally settled on having Hiro crawl into the rucksack as easier to manage for now—the threatening rain was almost on them and he could hear an extra layer of sound on the water, rain on crashing waves.

“Don’t move, don’t make a sound until I tell you,” he told the little dragon before lowering the flap over him. Pick up the rucksack, braced against the extra weight—

Checked one last time before bolting for his back door.

Slam against it, slip inside, cursing his eyes for having to adjust to the dark—he hadn’t bothered coming back here for days now, and the fireplace had long since died. Scour the building as soon as his eyes adjusted, ran back to the doors and bolted them both—

Wait until he had a fire started before scanning the house one last time.

Mostly open, the loft where he slept separated from the rest of it by a set of stairs, railing, and support beams. There were storage rooms tucked under the loft, which he checked again—a desk, a table for eating, shelves, an open pantry combined with the mudroom area near the back door, and the kitchen wrapped around the corner of the house between the front door and the fireplace. Small, simple, serviceable, with most of the available spaces filled with his own experiments and notations.

There was also a basket on his dining table.

Hesitate, shift his weight a little…no, the place was empty but for him and his very dangerous guest. Finally dip down, put the rucksack down and flip it open.

“No tearing up my house,” he ordered, unhooking the leash from his belt. “And if someone comes up here, you hide and don’t come out until I tell you. Understand?”

Hiro didn’t give much inclination that he did, Hiro seemed taken with being indoors.

“Yes, this is my house,” Obake sighed, sitting back on his legs. “You’re in my house. Try not to trash it, I don’t need a mess I can’t explain away.”

“Wuff,” Hiro noised, slipping out of the rucksack to start padding around the house—reached the end of the rope and pulled, padded back to Obake to let him undo the rope.

Soon as that was done, Hiro was off, making him very glad he had bolted the doors first. Sigh, mutter about idiot dragons, investigate the basket on his table. As he might have guessed, it was from Carl. Either that, or Momakase had stepped up her game and learned how to forge Carl’s handwriting, which he doubted.

_Hey,_

_Got you some food here, Momakase didn’t help don’t worry, eat something._

_\--Carl_

_PS: Yama and Sparkles are after you, be careful._

Great. Just great that was _wonderful_ news. Crumple up the note, pressing his fist against his forehead as he growled under his breath—finally throw the note away in a fit of pique.

Hiro poked his head out between the upstairs railings and chirped in confusion.

“Nothing you need concern yourself with,” he told the little dragon—glance up as the pattering of rain started on his roof, strengthened into a proper storm within a few seconds. Yes, he had been right in getting Hiro out of that, he didn’t know if dragons could catch cold and now was an awful time to find out.

Hiro seemed to think the same way, yipped and bounded down the steps, launched himself off the last few steps when he realized what was in the basket.

“I would like to eat too at some point,” he informed Hiro, resolutely not looking at him while he cleaned the fish. “Wait until I’m done.”

Hiro sat up, pawed at the air.

“Very nice, Hiro, but let me finish—you can have the bones, _stop that.”_

Hiro huffed, jumped onto the counter—was put back down quickly by Obake.

“Terribly sorry, but all employees must wash their hands first,” Obake said—arched an eyebrow when Hiro started licking a paw. “And I’m not counting that. Wait your turn.”

Hiro made a disparaging noise at him before resuming his examination of the house, circling back to the fireplace to sniff at it—paw at some ash before drawing the symbol for _fish_ in it.

Obake considered him, weighing his options—on the one hand, it was important to reward good behavior, and he was definitely linking the rune with fish which was important to this whole test of linguistics…on the other hand, he was also being had, and he wasn’t entirely unconvinced that Hiro _knew_ that writing that rune got him fish and therefore he’d get the fish currently on the counter. Finally compromise with the fish guts he wasn’t going to do anything with anyway.

“Yes I’m sure you think you’re very clever,” Obake told him, going back to fileting the fish. Glance down at the chuff, see Hiro write the rune again. “I’d like to eat too, Hiro, I’m not going out in that mess because you ate me out of house and—”

Was cut off by a loud boom of thunder, causing him to flinch and look up—

When he looked back down, it was to find Hiro flattened to the ground, looking up at the ceiling with naked concern.

“What’s this?” Obake asked, amused despite himself. “Is the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself afraid of a little thunderstorm?”

Hiro gave him a look that almost bordered on offended.

“I suppose you wouldn’t understand that,” he mused—looked at the rune again. “Or perhaps you do—it’s hard to tell this early in the experiment.”

Hiro huffed, glanced up at the ceiling again—went back to the fireplace and scratched out the rune for _fish_ again.

Obake considered him before writing out _Hiro_ in the ash.

“Do you understand such abstract identifiers?” he asked the confused little dragon. “You’re aware of yourself, yes, but are you aware of what you’re called, the stories around your species? Do you have a society, and if so how complex? You seem to have a concept of family units and your larger flight, but how organized is it really? Is it comparable to a village?”

Hiro was definitely looking at him with confusion now.

Obake sighed. “I do wish there was a way around this—you can understand me, yes, but there’s a language barrier, if I were to be generous enough to assume dragons have such a language.” And what would one call it? Dragonese? “Unfortunately, until I can come up with a better plan, we’re stuck with the slow approach.” Slow but interesting, if this bore fruit. Otherwise, it was just another trick Hiro was learning.

Hiro considered the ash before scratching out the rune for _fish_ again.

Sigh, slice off the fish tail and flip it to him—crouch down once Hiro snapped it up to scratch him about the ears.

“You really are a clever boy,” he told him. “And far too trusting.”

Hiro had just enough time to lift his ear flaps in confusion before Obake dropped his hand and tapped on that bundle of nerves—the little dragon collapsed, would be out for a blissful fifteen minutes.

“Now then,” he sighed, standing and going back to the half-gutted fish. “Where were we?”

She sped through the island as fast as she dared, trying to get it covered before the rain hit or a Yokai found her—

The rain found her first.

Older-Light-Fury couldn’t help the disparaging hiss, snorting at the water that thwarted her senses—disguised the approach of enemies and washed away the scent of her hatchling.

There were one or two spots that held promise—one, where a collection of scales was, with a Yokai metal-claw nearby. Another, a few scales in a cove with a dead Yokai-fire.

Both spots did not hold _good_ promises.

She screamed into the night, venting her frustration—she didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to accept it—but the evidence suggested that Little-Brother had been eaten by the Yokai. She wanted to scream, to rage, to raze their nest to the ground in retaliation—

She couldn’t—she still had Older-Brother, the slimmest of hopes.

And if she wanted to save him, she had to go back right now.

Close her eyes, knowing it was dangerous on this island but doing so anyway, holding back her emotions….

_I’m sorry, Little-Brother. I…I tried._ Huff, sadness soaking her through like the rain. _I should have tried harder, should have fought—fought long ago. I’m…._

Launch into the air, screaming her grief, drowned out by the thunder.

_I will not fail again. You’re in a place now where pain can no longer touch you._

_I just ask that you wait for Older-Brother—I can’t—I can’t lose both of you. But…but if he’s already up there with you….I’ll be joining you soon._

Because if Older-Brother was dead as well….

The last thing she would do on this earth would be attacking Mountain-King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiro and Obake are definitely on the same wavelength in canon, the main difference being that Obake gives no effs about little things like right, wrong, and morality. In other news, Obake’s experience here with Hiro mirrors my experiences with walking my Dalmatians over the years—face, meet ground.
> 
> Also the one scene was heavily inspired by that one exchange between Obake and Noodle Burger Boy. You know the one.


	18. Furious Food Critics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 18, everybody! It's a Kyle Busch number! :D
> 
> Sorry for dropping off the face of the earth with this fic for the last couple of months, but the writing juice was elsewhere. XP On the positive side, some of that juice was for Books II and III, so…good things.
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney
> 
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks

Hiro drifted back to wakefulness, strange smells tickling his nose—blinked his eyes open, forcing his way through the fuzziness frosting them—

“Well, look who finally decided to join us.”

Where he was, what had happened, and _who_ had done it to him all jumped on his head at once.

_“Hey,”_ he hissed at Obake, getting to his feet and ignoring the wobble in them. _“Jerk!”_

“Tell me, and be honest,” Obake said, taking something over to an odd boulder set against the wall. “That’s an off switch that beleaguered dragon parents make use of, isn’t it?”

Hiro hissed, ears flat at him making such a scarily accurate guess, followed him over to the odd boulder when curiosity got the better of him. Hmm, not a boulder, this was made of wood—a log then?

Ears flipped up in surprise when Obake pulled part of it open, revealing a hollow divot.

_“Wow, what is that—urgh,”_ he noised, backing up as a sour smell hit his nose. _“I think you clawed up some rot.”_

“It’s for curing fish,” Obake said, putting _perfectly good fish_ into the stinking substance before pulling some other pieces of fish out. Made a pensive noise and held it out to Hiro. “Interested?”

_“Ugh NO!”_ Hiro barked, backing up. _“It smells like you barfed up half-rotten fish!”_

“Well it’s good to know there’s _something_ you’ll keep your nose out of.”

_“Is that an insult? I feel insulted. Hey get back here!”_ he barked, cantering after Obake as he went to a couple of…were those eggs in the fire? Dig his claws in, trying to hold on to his indignance in the face of new oddities—had to look down when his claws scraped wood. Ah, right, Yokai apparently nested in wood-caves. _Somehow._

“You’re going to need to _not_ do that,” Obake told him. “I don’t need evidence that I’m harboring a dragon all over my house.”

_“I’m going to claw everything to mark my territory and there’s not a thing you can do about it,”_ Hiro countered—ear flaps up again when Obake used a silver stick to pull something out of the one egg to put in a hollow rock. _“What is that? Are those eggs? YOU’RE EATING THE UNBORN WHY.”_

“I suppose dragons wouldn’t know about rice,” Obake said, sliding the rotten fish onto the cooked egg-guts and EW _why_ —

Hiro scrambled back, ears flat when Obake offered him the flat piece of rock the fish had been on.

“So using you as a dishwasher is out,” Obake said, putting the rock on a ledge before getting a different hollow rock and going to the second egg.

_“Wait what is THAT that’s not egg-guts,”_ Hiro said, shuffling forward again. _“That smells like leaf-water WHY is there leaf-water in that egg?”_

Obake considered him for a beat before separating the hollow rock from the flat bit it was sitting on, pouring some leaf-water onto it before setting it down on Hiro’s level.

“It’s called tea,” Obake told him.

_“’Tea,’”_ Hiro repeated, trying to turn the Yokai-word into something sensible-sounding. Sniff—smelled like hot leaf-water. Lick—

_“Urgh ack PLEAGH,”_ Hiro spat, backing up and scrubbing his tongue with a paw. _EW that was gross._ Glare at Obake snickering at him, huff and pace around, shooting him dirty looks as he did so, which Obake _had_ to be aware of considering he was keeping an eye squintily open during his moment of silence. Pace back at him when he used a pair of sticks to start eating the rotten fish UGH WHY.

Obake was currently leaning against the ledge he had put the one rock on, drummed his not-claws on it as he considered Hiro…finally pinched something between the two sticks before dropping it on the floor in front of Hiro.

Hiro, for the most part, was expecting a trick at this point—sniff at the blob of egg-guts, faintly smelling of the rotten-fish and the weird bulbous roots they dug up sometimes but not much of anything else. Whatever this was, it wasn’t actually part of an egg. Which, honestly, led to the question of _what_ those things were if they weren’t eggs….

Obake was eating the stuff and still watching him. Consider…okay, so obviously Yokai had different stomach systems to stand eating _THAT_ , but…lick the blob up—

Keep licking when the texture didn’t agree with him—like that time he had licked up a bunch of maggots on a dare.

_“Ugh ew UGH_ ,” he spat, pawing at his tongue _AGAIN_ in an attempt to get that out of his mouth ugh _WHY_ no better yet _HOW_ could Yokai _eat this stuff THIS WAS GROSS._

Even worse, _Obake was laughing at him._

“So am I to assume that if I were to join you on the floor you’d leave my dinner alone?” he asked, amused. When Hiro glared at him he shrugged, put the hollow rock on the stone ledge the tame-fire rested on, turned around—

_“Ah, MUCH_ _better,”_ Hiro said, ears perked up when Obake put a flat rock’s worth of fish guts and bones in front of him. Imitate his squinty one-eye approach (adding an apology this was probably going to be a habit before it was all over) before digging in _OH YES_ this was _SO MUCH BETTER_.

_“Why are you laughing don’t laugh,”_ Hiro huffed as Obake settled down on his level, sitting crosslegged against the one ledge and can we once again discuss how weird it was that Yokai legs _DID THAT. “You eat nothing but gross stuff YOU’RE the weird one, not me.”_

Obake considered him before offering his hollow rock full of weird not-maggots and rotten fish, causing Hiro to recoil.

“So let’s see if I understand this correctly,” Obake said, ticking off his long not-claws. “Dragons don’t eat rice, they don’t like treated fish, and you lot don’t drink tea _at all.”_ Arch a not-eyeridge at that, glancing away briefly. “I don’t know why that last one strikes me hardest, but it does to some extent. So am I to understand that dragons are obligate carnivores, most likely solely piscivorous?”

Hiro gave him a blank look, pretty sure Obake had stopped using real words.

Obake sighed, pointed at Hiro’s dinner. “Fish. Do dragons eat nothing but _fish?”_

Hiro looked at the fish—put a paw around some of it and growled at Obake. _“Mine—it’s not my fault you eat all that gross stuff.”_

Obake considered the action, Hiro watching just in case he decided he _was_ going to try for the fish anyway.

“Then _why_ do you raid us?” Obake asked seriously. “Don’t tell me it’s for revenge, you lot were attacking us _long_ before the Yokai even existed. Why attack us if you eat none of our food, when there’s a whole ocean of fish for you to find?”

Hiro opened his mouth, snout wrinkling in aggravation—face crumpled when what Obake said sank in.

_“That’s…not what Mountain-King told us,”_ he said slowly, thinking. Mountain-King told them that the Yokai were an old foe that would happily slay them all if caught unawares, that stealing from them was fair play.

But according to _Obake_ , dragons had been raiding them…since _before_ the Yokai.

He absently pawed his fish away from Obake, turning this over—the Yokai had _always_ been a popular scare-you story, he had practically hatched out hearing those stories…but he was a very young dragon, to be fair, barely fledged—and broke his wingbone on his first big flight like a complete idiot.

_“No wait that was YOUR fault,”_ Hiro said, glaring at Obake.

“What?” Obake asked mildly, still eating that gross stuff HOW did Yokai even live on that? “Does the truth hurt?”

Truth? That would imply that Mountain-King was lying. It was more likely that this Yokai was lying, part of a big endgame to steal his hide.

Except Hiro could fully believe that Mountain-King was lying—Mountain-King was cruel and greedy and awful.

And weirdly enough, he could believe that Obake was telling the truth, at least on this thing. He seemed inclined to be honest with him, mostly, although Hiro could tell that wasn’t how he normally behaved—the way his mouth would twist, the not-scale-probably-not-hide around his stubby muzzle wrinkled, they way he’d squint an eye with not-eyeridges moving…he was used to being evasive and silver-tongued. Hiro would bet a whole turn’s worth of fish that Obake was comfortable lying, could do so with a straight face—it was when he was telling the truth that he gained little tells.

Which meant the truth was that Mountain-King was lying, and that perhaps….

_You create your own worst enemy._ That was what Older-Light-Fury said, what Older-Brother said whenever Hiro got into a squabble with another hatchling—be nice, be good, be understanding, because to do otherwise was to make the other dragon view you as an enemy to be bested.

By this logic, Mountain-King had created the Yokai.

Huff, feeling his snout and eyeridges smooth—that made sense, that actually made perfect sense—

How to tell Obake though?

Glance at the Yokai, trying to puzzle this out—noted he was almost done with his yuck-meal and hastened to eat the rest of the fish before Obake decided that yes, _actual_ fish was much better. That had been _his_ mistake, not Hiro’s.

“And now I’m wondering if it’s possible for dragons to choke,” Obake said drily, draining the last of his leaf-water before standing, taking the piece of rock that Hiro was quickly licking free of flavor _hey_ —

Huff at him before padding around the Yokai-nest again, turning over this new wrinkle. Say Mountain-King was responsible for the Yokai’s existence. That meant….

That meant if they stopped attacking, the Yokai would have no reason to fight them. Maybe….

He felt an electric tingling through his scales, like that time he had jumped into a tide pool after a Seashocker had swam by—if they could stop the fighting, then maybe _all_ the Yokai could be friendly! No more fighting, no more worrying about a Yokai stealing your hide—

He really needed more information before he went too far on this theory.

Huff again, pad back over to Obake, busy with water and the strange rocks—put his front paws on the fire-ledge before huffing at him.

“Now what, Hiro?”

Huff again, thinking—Obake was scarily good at guessing what he thought, but at the same time he just didn’t understand. Hiro was figuring out Yokainese well enough, but Obake didn’t seem to understand anything of Dragonese. There was still a big language barrier there. Look back at the ash—

Saw the squiggly that meant _fish_ , considered it before looking back at the second squiggly Obake had written, that obviously _didn’t_ mean _fish_. And then those big dry-leaves full of squigglies…they had to mean _something…._

That dry-leaf that Obake had thrown away—pad around, sniffing for it—found it, pawed it out—

He had to be careful, dry leaves crumbled under his paws—but this one didn’t, despite crackling in similar fashion. Try to smooth it out—

More squigglies—squigglies that had to _mean something,_ because Obake had reacted to it—

There was something here. He was close, within pouncing range of an understanding, of a concept, an idea—he just had to figure out how to make that final lunge.

Gingerly pick up the dry-leaf in his mouth, go back to the fire-ledge, stand up with front paws on it—put the dry-leaf down and bark at Obake, looking at the one rock like he was thinking about filling it with leaf-water again.

“What, Hiro,” Obake sighed, looking at him—tipping his head in interest when he saw what Hiro had.

Hiro patted the dry-leaf gingerly. _“What is this? You reacted to it, so it must mean something—what does it mean?”_ Look interested—easy to do because he was—maybe Obake read body language like he did.

Obake sighed, filled the rock with leaf-water again before taking the dry-leaf away, looking at it for a long time. Hiro took the moment to analyze his expression—eyes narrowed, a tiny line between his not-eyeridges, mouth thin. Leaning into his blank lying face.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Obake said finally, putting the dry-leaf into the fire—Hiro couldn’t help the squeak of surprise at that.

Could definitely help the glare at him though, ears and nubs flat.

“What?” Obake demanded. “You couldn’t possibly _want_ that.”

_“You just lied to me,”_ Hiro accused. _“Don’t do that—I can’t get out of this if I can’t trust you.”_ Because if he couldn’t trust Obake in the little things, he couldn’t trust him in the big things.

And he needed to still be able to hold onto the belief that his wing could be healed.

Obake seemed confused, consternated when Hiro pointedly looked at the crumbling dry-leaf, resigned when Hiro looked back at him.

“That _isn’t_ something you need to concern yourself with,” Obake insisted, indicating the fire. “I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

It wasn’t an explanation, and Hiro _wanted_ an explanation….But it wasn’t a lie either—Obake’s little tells were back.

Huff, looked back at the fire that had totally eaten the dry-leaf now. He wanted to know more, but he was going to have to resign himself to the fact that that, at least, was to remain a mystery for now. Look down at the squiggles in the ash—

Looked back up at Obake, putting a paw near the second squiggle. _“What does this mean?”_

Obake tipped his head the other way, seeming vaguely relieved that Hiro had dropped the dry-leaf discussion for now, expression considering and calculating. Hiro spent the time Obake took to apparently have an internal debate trying to figure out if he had ever seen such an expression on _anything_ else before.

He wasn’t sure—it was the sort of calculating he figured a Skrill, hunter of Night Furies, must have: shrewd, conniving, cruel—a hunter that knew it hunted intelligent prey and spent its spare time picking apart how to best it.

And then it was gone, mostly, Obake having apparently come to a decision—perhaps of whether or not Hiro would understand what he was trying to say. Watch as he crouched down, smoothed out the ash, wrote the second squiggle in.

_“Hiro,”_ he said, indicating the squiggle. “This symbol means _Hiro._ It’s a name, an identifier—it represents _you,_ basically.”

Hiro looked at the squiggle, intrigued—so he got a gift-name _and_ a squiggle? How did all this work? No wait—wait…it was the same thing, except…Yokai had _two_ languages, their spoken one and this squiggly one—Obake wrote this, had said it had meaning—had said it meant _him._ Like how the other squiggle meant _fish_. Which meant….

The squiggles _did_ have meaning, _did_ have purpose, _was_ a language—one he could learn and figure out.

But first…he needed to know more than just the one squiggle.

Look over the second squiggle carefully, painstakingly imitate it, carefully copying into the ash—finally look up at Obake, tap at the ash softly before patting his own chest.

_“Hiro,”_ he said, before patting the ash near the second squiggle. _“Hiro.”_

Obake looked pleased—no, wait, maybe that was too base a term— _excited_ , like Hiro had just laid out a whole scheme that promised to be convoluted and challenging but totally epic in the end. He…wanted to be able to communicate with Hiro as badly as Hiro wanted to communicate with _him._

It was enough to prompt Hiro to poke him in the leg, pat at the _Hiro_ squiggle, then himself, then Obake again, leaving an ashy pawprint on his leg. _“Obake?”_ Make a little squiggle, pat at Obake’s leg again. _“Obake?”_

Obake made a pensive noise as he puzzled out what it was Hiro was after. “No,” he said finally, smoothing out the squiggle Hiro had drawn. “This is how you would write _Obake.”_

His ears flipped up, twitched—there was something kind of… _off_ …about the way he said that. Before it had always been conclusively _this means this._ Not _this is how you write it._ This…almost intimated that there was something different about this…but then why wouldn’t Hiro’s squiggle be different?

Imitate it as best he could, tap it before tapping his squiggle, looking at Obake. _“How is your name different from mine?”_

Obake looked the squiggles over, looked at him, up at the ceiling where the faint noise of rain was still persisting.

“No attacks tonight,” he said, sounding distracted—looked back down at Hiro’s irritated huff. “What?”

In response, Hiro wrote his and Obake’s squiggles again, looked at him. _“What’s the difference?”_

Obake sighed, got up, refilled his hollow rock with the leaf-water, drained it, filled it up again before he eased back down.

“This feels like it’s going to take a while,” he said in response to Hiro’s questioning chuff. Okay, that was fine, he had time.

A twitch danced up and down his hide at that thought—he was in a Yokai-nest, had been unconscious in one, and he had no problem with the situation, was actually glad for it and felt _safe_ in here. Why? Obake hadn’t suddenly ceased to be dangerous in the last five minutes.

Neither had Hiro. Neither had Older-Brother or Older-Light-Fury, the whole time he had been back with them and warm together in a cave. Maybe that was it—dragons were dangerous. Yokai were dangerous. But in reaching an understanding, an acknowledgement that they were mutually dangerous but able to coexist and communicate anyway….

Huff at the fact that this needed him to be more fluent in Yokainese and the scribble-language, that he had no idea what he needed to learn first to ask his questions—this would take time, an aggravating amount of time, the sort of time he couldn’t squish into a night.

Obake tipped his hollow rock like he was in agreement. “You have until I finish this. So, let’s try this again.”

Yes, let’s. He’d figure this out, he’d conquer this new puzzle.

He just had to stay focused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if Skrill hunting Night Furies is canon, but it cropped up in VigoGrimborne’s _Living_ series, and I liked the concept—plus it fits because we’ve got other dragons that canonically eat other dragons.
> 
> In other news, my knowledge of sushi and how to prepare it is limited mostly to the time my Dad did shrimp and whatever I've read up so forgive me if I make any sushi-related mistakes. ^^;
> 
> Also, we’re definitely going to be seeing more of this and my other fics soon—I’m knuckling down on active fics this month, and a conversation the characters had has now jumpstarted some stuff and put other things in motion and Obake is just really going to have a frustrating time. ^^;


	19. House Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 19, everybody! This chapter is dedicated to our dogs who took over the bed as puppies and refuse to leave now that they’re big dogs. D:
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney
> 
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks

Okay, so teaching a dragon Nortakanic in his house was _not_ a sentence Obake thought he’d ever consider. And the act of actually doing that? Forget about it.

And yet here he was, late on a rainy night, covering a handful of runes with a _Night Fury,_ a dragon no one had ever clapped eyes on, teaching it runes via the ash in front of the fireplace. He was pretty sure his life had firmly hit _surreal_ now.

But if Hiro’s life had reached the same point, he didn’t show it—still focusing on scratching out imitations of whatever Obake did, tongue between toothless gums as he concentrated. So far he had the runes for _fish_ , his own name, and one very incriminating word down. Maybe he should have skipped that particular lesson.

But considering the dragon in question kept yawning and pawing at his face, that was probably going to be a problem for tomorrow. And seeing as how he was officially out of tea…bedtime was probably a good idea. Either that or making a pot of coffee, but he liked the concept of a soft-ish bed for once and coffee _and_ tea were both at a premium. Actually, everything was—the cost of living an unsustainable lifestyle.

“I think that’s probably enough for one day,” he announced, wiping out the ashy runes and standing—ow, ow, stiff—wave Hiro’s curious chirping off. _“Some_ of us are not strictly nocturnal.” Although come to think of it, were Night Furies even nocturnal? Hiro had been active during the day for the entire time Obake had known him…was he mimicking Obake’s sleep patterns so he wasn’t caught asleep? Didn’t make much sense, that would have him sleeping while a threat was around.

Speaking of—bank the fire so the house didn’t burn down (the loss of _this_ place would have him sleeping more firmly in town, which he did _not_ want), head upstairs…pause, turn, whistle for Hiro.

Hiro had been pawing at his face again—perked up at that, bounded over, momentarily slowed by the steps before he recalled how to scramble up them.

“Good boy,” Obake told him, before making it the rest of the way to his loft. Not _quite_ as warm as in front of the fireplace, or even the ground floor, but he’d rather have some wiggle room as far as fleeing potential intruders.

Although this _was_ usually the spot that dealt with dragons first.

But speaking of the dragon in the room—grab a pile of scrap fabric he had thrown to the side with nebulous plans for later, dump them in a corner that was hidden by the bed, arrange them in a nest that looked big enough and had enough padding to keep Hiro from feeling the floor too much. Turn—huff at the dragon that was walking all over his bed.

“This one is mine,” Obake told him, picking Hiro up and depositing him in the blanket-nest. “This one is yours.”

Hiro huffed at it, turned around, padding it down and sniffing. Obake took that as a win, tugged his coat off and tossed it at the end of the bed, sat down and pulled his boots off (which intrigued Hiro, apparently)—

Barely had time to flip the covers back before Hiro hopped back up on the bed.

“No,” Obake told him, putting him back on the blanket-nest. “That’s yours. _This_ is mine.”

Hiro chuffed at him, looking vaguely accusatory.

Obake sighed, massaging his temples. “You’re right, you’re right….” That one aggravating irritant of a word that still made his hackles raise, hated the fact he was doing precisely what _she_ had done—

_What good is the word ‘no’ except as another limitation?_

She was no longer around for him to prove a point to…but maybe he could prove a point to himself.

“We’ve established that you’re a thinking, functioning creature of higher intelligence, correct?” he asked Hiro. “Then I tell you what: no limits. I had to deal with them my whole life—I don’t wish them on someone else.”

Hiro chuffed again—

Hopped up on the bed.

“Maybe _one_ limit,” Obake said, returning him to the little blanket-nest. Managed to get under the covers before the bed moved, Hiro crawling all over it before kneading part of it. “You listen well, don’t you?”

Hiro chuffed again, flopped down and wallowed around a little before finally rolling to his side, then his belly, wiggled again before starting to make small snoring noises.

“You’re an absolute disgrace,” Obake muttered, rolling to his other side so he wasn’t facing the dragon that had claimed half his bed—back to his back when he recalled that those ribs pained him when he slept on them. “If we get killed for this, I’m killing you first.”

Hiro made a snuffling noise, but otherwise ignored him. Fair enough.

Now here was hoping he got a decent night’s sleep with some dragon taking up most of _his_ bed.

Honeysuckle huffed as she wended her way through the tunnels, appreciating the fresh water she was getting from the ice but not the fact that her tongue kept sticking to it. Reach her destination, wait for her cold mouth to warm enough to melt the ice enough to loosen it from her tongue, glance over her shoulder one last time before dropping the ice into the water, wincing at the loud-sounding _plop_ that echoed out of the cove.

The good news was, no one liked this tunnel or this cove because of the deadly hard-seafoam that collected there, that filled up the stomach and killed whatever ate it, from dragons to fish. Trying to flame it off the ocean resulted in a horrendous stink, so the only thing that anyone could think to do with it was ignore it and hope it went away.

It never did.

But the good thing about the hard-seafoam was that it was the same color as Mountain-King’s ice and hid it well while the ice melted—eating it was another way of getting rid of it, but that made their jaws and heads ache and their empty stomachs slosh unpleasantly…which reminded her, they really needed to sneak out fishing soon.

Later—and maybe easier once Mountain-King was fed and sated, that big ugly jerk. Swift-Strike had suggested bundling up the hard-seafoam into a large fish or maybe even a deer (a deer! She had only ever heard stories of those) and dropping it into his greedy mouth, but Healing-Talons wasn’t really for anything that could harm someone and Greenscales pointed out that it would take a very very _very_ long time for a stomach _that_ big to fill up and starve him.

Besides, they had more pressing matters to attend to.

Huff, lick at her paws, lingering on her much-blunted claws—she had been working as hard as she could, but Healing-Talons had finally told her to take a break and let her claws grow back, much to her chagrin. But that was the state of everyone’s talons, trying to dig through that ice—even Healing-Talons, whose claws were built specifically for ice and were thicker than her own.

They couldn’t wait, though—Older-Brother had no food, had not had anything for days now, not fish not sun…hopefully air. Hopefully he was still alive she couldn’t stand the thought of him being dead no—

Couldn’t stand the thought of Little-Brother being dead either.

No—maybe things would turn out all right, maybe Older-Light-Fury would come back with him. Maybe everything would work out.

Sigh, flex her now-useless talons, turn and head back up the tunnel. Healing-Talons said she couldn’t keep clawing at the ice, fair—so she was moving the chunks they could break, occasionally getting help from Gronkles who kept making it a point to bash that huge edifice of ice every time they did their ‘races.’

She was noticing Monstrous Nightmares making it a point to fight near there and flame at the ice too—Older-Brother’s helpful attitude coupled with how he had just been… _bashed_ out of the sky for being terrified for his brother just hadn’t sat right with anybody. Older-Light-Fury’s constant wailing had kept undercutting Mountain-King’s power, and now….

Everyone was trying to help, in their own subtle ways.

But the fact of the matter was, their progress was too slow. And they couldn’t just flame it all because it could drown Older-Brother, or drop a chunk of boulder on him. No, they had to proceed with caution.

And in trying to avoid killing him quickly, they were risking killing him slowly.

No—no, she had to think positive—they’d keep working, keep digging…someone had to help. That was what Older-Brother always said— _someone has to help._

She refused for that to become simply a memory.

The knocking on his door wasn’t welcome, it was jostling him out of a good sleep, one which he hadn’t had in a good long while, bed warm with what felt like a hot water bottle curled up against his chest.

Hold it.

Finally blink blearily awake, mind starting to click along at its usual pace—yes hello, there is a dragon curled up against your chest in your bed _in your house_ and you seem to have no problem with this. You should probably have problems with this.

Definitely have problems with the knocking at his door, which mean trouble—launch out of bed, jam himself into his boots and coat—

“Wrr?” Hiro noised blearily.

“You—hide, don’t come out until I tell you,” he ordered, jostling Hiro into wakefulness, ear flaps up and a concerned look on his face—must have seen something in Obake’s expression, because he dove under the bed without another squeak.

As for Obake—

Scrub at his face and brush his hair back as he staggered down the stairs, trying to kick his brain back into its usual high gear—note to self, warm beds made you soft-headed. For future reference, keep dragons out of it. Listen at the door, didn’t hear any inane giggling or grumbling that would suggest ill fortune for him—

Open the door to see the bulk of Felony Carl filling it.

“It’s really too early for this,” he started—cut off at the mug of coffee Carl handed him.

“Actually, it’s after ten,” Carl informed him, making him nearly choke on his coffee. “Thought I’d tell you that Yama and Sparkles are still looking for you. Also, you have some orders.”

“Kindly inform those two idiots that I can’t exactly attend to blacksmithing duties if they insist on trying to kill me.”

“I mentioned that,” Carl said. “As did Calhoun. I think Felix wanted to mention it too since he ran out of nails, but you know how he is.”

Terrified of his own shadow, and with reason, he supposed—being pressganged into the Yokai tended to have two effects: either people embraced the lifestyle quickly, or they panicked and rebelled (and died quickly). Felix, at least, had lasted a lot longer than most, but that was probably because he was firstly useful and secondly kept his head down.

“I’m not entirely sure where you’ve been or what you’ve been doing,” Carl said as Obake took a drink of his coffee. “But I’d recommend continuing to do it—Sparkles has been furious at you ever since that thing with the wheel.”

“Now see, I thought it was funny,” Obake said, corners of his mouth twitching.

“They’re still wanting blood—Yama ordered all dragons next raid captured _alive.”_

Oog. That promised a lot of very unpleasant encounters in the kill ring, if he succeeded in getting a goodly number. “How many are left from the last raid?”

“Just a Gronkle—the rest are Terrors for the dogfights. But we’re overdue for another raid.”

True…the dragons usually didn’t attack in the rain, probably because it made it hard to burn things, but tonight would probably be clear and fine pickings. “Thanks for the warning.”

Carl handed him a basket. “Take care of yourself.”

Close the door, put the basket on the counter, lock the door—listen, just barely heard someone asking Carl about Obake only for him to say _wasn’t there._ Hmph. Look up at the loft—

Green eyes were peering down nervously at him.

“I think it’s time we make ourselves scarce,” Obake announced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In other news, I’m curious if anyone knows what the hard-seafoam is. It’ll get addressed in Book II again, but I wonder.
> 
> Also, we're definitely going to be seeing more of this and my other fics soon—I'm knuckling down on active fics this month, and a conversation the characters had has now jumpstarted some stuff and put other things in motion and Obake is just really going to have a frustrating time. ^^;


	20. New Finds in Higher Places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 20, everybody! We’re moving on up! Literally. And meeting someone new, isn’t that nice! Or so we say at least.
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney  
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks

Okay, so that big Yokai seemed friendly enough…maybe Hiro could branch out eventually.

Later—it became clear from Obake’s behavior that this nest was about to be raided, busy packing away dry leaves and dry-leaf bunches and food and one or two metal claws that made Hiro’s hackles rise—

“Excuse me for not having a breath weapon that makes me a complete terror at my disposal,” Obake countered, tucking a metal claw into his hide-that-ate-things. “Some of us have to have a different form of insurance.”

_“Well at least you’re finally admitting it,”_ Hiro huffed, starting to wonder just what it was that made Yokai so terrifying. They had no natural weapons to speak of at _all_.

Also something he was questioning: getting back into the carry-tool.

“Don’t huff at me, I’m the one who has to carry it,” Obake hissed back. “I’m not putting the leash on just yet—if I tell you to run you run and don’t stop, understand me?”

This…sounded serious. Weirdly serious. Gingerly crawl in, curl up, claws digging into the soft-things that Yokai apparently liked to bundle up in and sleep on (after last night Hiro could _definitely_ understand the latter)—

Top folded down, enveloping him in darkness, only able to rely on his hearing and sense of movement—knew they were going to the back bolt-hole of the nest, the one closest to the forest. Pause, listening…so long Hiro’s scales itched and wanted to crawl away—

Running, carry-tool hugged close—footfalls changed, telling him they were in the woods, Obake’s breathing changing long before that—he could get short sprints only but apparently Obake even got winded at _that_. Totally a stealth hunter.

Finally, _finally_ though—felt the carry-tool be lowered to the ground, sighed in relief when the flap was lifted—

Huff when Obake quickly attached the leash.

_“It’s like you don’t trust me at all,”_ Hiro complained, crawling out of the carry-tool and looking around. Yup, forest, and the ground beneath him was unpleasantly squishy in the _torrential rain_ kind of way.

“Yes, well, not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t trust you,” Obake informed him—hmm, maybe he _did_ understand Dragonese. “And judging by how wet it is here, the cove will be flooded. So it seems the only way left to go is _up.”_

Hiro blinked, looked where he indicated—where the ground started sloping up before butting against the rocky slopes of the mountain crags of the island. Great place for dragons—maybe not so much for Yokai.

_“I guess it’s a plan,”_ Hiro said. Gingerly picked his feet up until Obake finally got his wind back and started off, hauling the carry-tool with him. Picked his way through the wet ground too, although without as much care as Hiro was taking—well of course! Those were false-paws that he could take off like his hide and that was _weird, okay?_ Did anything on earth even do this sort of weird behavior? Oh wait hermit crabs maybe Yokai _were_ like hermit crabs like that one Terror said….

This puzzling over a new wrinkle in Yokai-care carried him through picking through the wet woods, up to the scree that marked the border between the more mountainous terrain and the forest, up a switchback leading away from the Yokai nest. There were still trees and some sturdy bushes growing in the rockier ground, and he was able to focus less on picking his way through mud as the ground transitioned to tougher scree and rubble—although the rocks were still slick and probably would be until late afternoon.

“People used to come up here to carve out blocks for their homes, after the great hall and storage rooms were finished,” Obake said—the first time he had spoken since they left. “Still do sometimes, but mostly they just move to a different house and let the other one fall to ruin.”

Huh. Okay, so what Hiro got from that was that Yokai lived in wood-nests that they also used rocks in? Okay so yeah there was that big rock that the tame-fire lived in but Yokai were still weird. Also, letting a nest fall to ruin? Were they like some animals that preferred using other animals’ nests?

_Maybe they’re like cuckoo-birds!_

That had been the one Terror’s thought, and it made him think—maybe there _had_ been a flight of not-dragons here before, and the Yokai had muscled them out! Just like a real cuckoo bird muscled the native hatchlings out of their nest.

Except…Obake made it sound like the Yokai had been something else entirely.

Well that still depended upon him believing that the Yokai weren’t just default murderous monsters, that Obake wasn’t lying to him, that he was a full Yokai…ugh, he hated thinking about all the holes in his plan, but he needed to be able to address them _sometime_ —

_“Wrr,”_ he snorted, surprised at the gust of wind that hit him—jolted him out of his musings to see that they were above the forest growing on the main chunk of the island, still mostly protected by the thinning treeline, currently in a wide clear spot where moss joined the ranks of _foliage stubbornly clinging on_.

“We might try going a little higher,” Obake mused, black hide more tightly bundled around him now. “Not too much more though—I’d rather not have to hike back and forth for kindling and food.” Consider their surroundings. “And not too far that way, we’ll be on the windward side and I’d rather not freeze to death.”

Especially considering he was shaking _now_ —were Yokai cold-blooded? Or maybe they were just lacking in the natural protections that dragons had, like scales and a thin layer of fat…wait _he_ was shivering a little too. Ugh, _thank you,_ Mountain-King, whatever baby fat he had had been used up to keep him alive. Stupid jerk.

Actually, it was kind of freeing thinking that, knowing he didn’t have to watch his tongue—because first you thought it, then you said it, then you got eaten. And since Mountain-King was nowhere to be seen….

Hiro jumped up on a rock, bounced to the next one, being mindful of the length of the leash—weirdly, being with the Yokai was an improvement. He didn’t have that constant gnawing hunger, nor the fear of being squashed or frozen. Skinned alive and eaten, yes, but the longer it went the less he thought Obake capable of doing so.

Look at him, focused on picking his way up and scanning the area for trouble. Hmm, well…no. He could believe Obake was capable of killing him…he just didn’t think he _would_.

So that’s what this was, he was certain—two very dangerous individuals yes he was dangerous he was a NIGHT FURY—two very dangerous individuals who had come to an understanding and…friendship. He liked that. He liked that a _lot._

“And what are you so happy about?” Obake asked, watching him bounce along.

_“Thinking about how AWESOME I am and how jealous Older-Brother’s gonna be,”_ Hiro told him, prancing. _“No dragon has ever tamed a Yokai, he’s gonna have to tell me I’m awesome even though it’ll kill him, this automatically makes me the best Night Fury EVER.”_

“Well at least _someone’s_ happy about all this,” Obake said, looking out over the island as the foliage cleared—they were high enough above the Yokai-nest that the individual nests looked like a squirrel’s horde, whole nuts interspersed with the broken shells, Yokai like ants scurrying around the remains looking for scraps. Flecks of color here and there told him that it used to be brighter, but now it seemed to be nothing but browns and dark grays and sooty blacks. Honestly didn’t look like much from up here.

“It used to be a lot more impressive,” Obake sighed, tugging on the leash a little to get Hiro off his rocky viewpoint. Couldn’t help the glance at the Yokai, wondering—an invader wouldn’t care what the nest ended up looking like. So yes, he had lived here before there were Yokai.

_“Are you really a Yokai though?”_ Hiro asked as they continued on up the slope. _“Were you hatched from a Yokai—oh right sorry you don’t hatch from eggs—but were you? Or were you like a cuckoo-bird, or a Hobblegrunt, and you changed your appearance so you wouldn’t get eaten?”_

“I don’t know,” Obake huffed. “We may have to double back if we don’t find anything—I’d rather not have any fire be spotted down there.”

_“Ah, so I’m a big secret—good, I bet I’d be way too popular. Everyone would be tripping over how awesome I am and you’d get lonely.”_ It was better than thinking he’d be dead, which was just depressing. _“So who was the big Yokai?”_

No answer, not that he expected one—sniff at the rocks, at the breeze, scenting clean rain-washed air—

“Ah,” Obake noised once they reached a flat section. “This looks promising.”

_This_ was a cave big enough for a modest-sized dragon to fit into, which meant plenty of room for Obake and Hiro—opened up into a wider space with rocks scattered everywhere, stalactites and stalagmites pointing into the space like dragon teeth. Protected from the wind, cozy, and not visible from the Yokai-nest.

“This looks _very_ promising,” Obake said, kneeling to root through the carry-tool. Hiro watched, interested in what all Obake had brought—

_“A…stick,”_ Hiro observed when Obake pulled it out. _“You brought a stick why? We’re not playing fetch now, are we? Because we’re still kind of tied together.”_

“This isn’t for playing,” Obake told him, pulling something else out—a rock, it looked like. Held the stick close to the wall, scrape the rock along so it sparked—

The end of the stick was suddenly flaming.

_“Ooh!”_ Hiro barked. _“Oh wait—did you mean to do that? You look like you meant to do that you’re not panicking what is it with Yokai and setting things on fire?”_

“And this is why I’d rather you not run around with it,” Obake said, lifting the flaming stick up—ah, so it lit the cave! Very clever. “Come on then.”

_“We’re not taking the carry-tool?”_ Hiro asked, looking at the thing they were leaving behind.

“I’d rather not be weighed down if we need to make a break for it.”

Hiro huffed at that, wondering just what Obake thought they’d be encountering in here. It was a cave, yes, it was nice and dry, yes—and it was deep enough they wouldn’t be seen from outside. Definitely perfect—

Not perfect.

He scented it moments before the boulder opened its eyes, managed a squeak of alarm as it started snarling—

Another squeak as Obake grabbed him, prompting the Gronkle to lunge—scramble back as Obake jabbed the torch forward, slipping in his haste to reverse course—Gronckle had claws, could recover faster—

_“Wait hold it!”_ Hiro barked, squirming free and jumping in front of Obake. _“No! Bad! He’s a friendly Yokai!”_ Roll to his back, belly exposed to Obake, look at the Gronkle and hope he could sell this. _“See? Very friendly—you just startled him. Bad dragon.”_

Okay, good news, he had succeeded in getting the Gronkle to stop charging.

Bad news: dragons should really not be looking at the Yokai-Tamer like he had lost all sense.

_“I…have no idea what part of that to address first,”_ the Gronkle said finally. _“Are you okay? You’re talking like you hit your head.”_

_“I am perfectly fine, see? I’m Hiro, and this is my pet Yokai Obake. Nice Obake, good Obake, stay. Pet.”_

The Gronkle was starting to edge firmly from aggressive to confused, and Hiro was certain he could totally talk her down so long as Obake didn’t decide to whip out a metal-claw. Growl weakly—

Hiro growled back—looked when Obake tugged at his leash. _“No. Bad Yokai. Stay.”_

“Being eaten by a Gronkle is not high on my list of _things I want to do today,”_ Obake hissed at him.

_“She’s not going to eat you. Remember, dragons eat fish, same as Yokai.”_

The Gronkle was actually backing up a few steps, thoroughly confused now. _“What is this even?”_

_“This is the latest breakthrough in dragon-Yokai relationships—see how I have tamed this ferocious beast!”_ he declared, pawing at Obake—who sagged as he realized what was going on.

“This is like with those Terrors, isn’t it?” he demanded, edging firmly from aggressive to annoyed.

_“Yes don’t ruin my moment. See? Completely tame.”_

The Gronkle still didn’t look convinced. _“If it’s so tame, why are you tied to it?”_

_“Oh. Well see, this is more him tied to me—it’s called a ‘leash,’ so you don’t lose your Yokai when you take it for a walk. They tend to wander off otherwise.”_ Bat at Obake when he flicked at his head.

“I know when I’m being mocked,” he ground out.

The Gronkle kept looking at them, eye ridges crumpling, ears folding back, mouth sagging further into disbelief—

Finally sat down, laid down, front paws massaging her head. _“I must have hit my head harder than I thought.”_

_“How did you even get here anyway?”_ Hiro asked.

“I understand there was a Gronkle left in the kill ring,” Obake mused. “Maybe it managed to escape. _Somehow_.”

_“What?”_ the Gronkle asked. _“What did he say?”_

Should probably leave out something that sounded like _kill ring,_ that sounded bad. _“He—we both do actually—want to know what you’re doing here. I mean, most dragons wouldn’t settle on Yokai.”_

_“Oh,”_ she said, sitting up a little. _“I come from a northern flight, one that has a queen? Anyway, when she sent us to attack here one of those flying rocks the Yokai throw hit me and I smacked into the mountain. Came to enough to scramble in here, woke up ages later hungry and thirsty, but with no queen growling in my head. Wasn’t sure if it was being here or getting bonked on the head, but I decided I’d take my chances here. No desire to go back to some alpha who’ll eat me if I screw up, you get me?”_

_“Yeah,”_ Hiro sighed. “ _Unfortunately.”_

The Gronkle glanced up at Obake again, shifted uneasily. _“So…he’s really tame?”_

_“Of course—take careful note of how he’s most decidedly not attacking us. Good Obake.”_

_“And it has a name.”_

_“I mean yeah, we do don’t we?”_ Which reminded him. _“By the way, I’m Hiro—that’s Obake.”_

_“What kind of a name is Hiro?”_

_“It’s a Yokai gift-name—it’s a thing. You didn’t introduce yourself.”_

_“Ah.”_ Ah-ha, etiquette just bit you, didn’t it? _“I’m Boulders-on-Hill. Kind of Boulders-IN-Hill right now, but yeah,”_ she muttered, looking around.

Hiro glanced back at being poked by Obake. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather press on now—worrying about _one_ dragon is bad enough.”

_“Fine, be boring,”_ Hiro huffed. _“Well, bye.”_

_“Wait, where’re you going?”_ Boulders-on-Hill asked, perking up—scrabbled upright and after them, prompting Obake to skitter away and Hiro to almost follow. _“Please stay—the cave’s big enough, I haven’t had anyone to talk to in AGES, and I need to know more about this thing you’re doing.”_

Hiro considered. _“You promise to be nice to Obake? No biting or flaming or clawing?”_

She gave Obake a narrow look. _“Do I have to worry about him doing any of those things?”_

_“Obake is very tame. Besides, Yokai don’t breathe fire.”_

_“That stick’s on fire.”_

_“Just because they don’t BREATHE fire doesn’t mean they don’t like SETTING things on fire.”_

Ah, got her now—finally sat down, nodding. _“Okay fine, but only because he seems polite.”_

_“Good.”_ Sat down, look at Obake.

And because Obake was a very clever Yokai, he got the gist soon enough.

“No,” he said flatly, front paws on his hips what was with Yokai limbs and bending like that seriously. “No, the Terrors were bad enough trying to feed _you_ is bad enough I’m not adding a Gronkle to the list.”

_“Please?”_ Hiro begged, sitting up and trying for cute—maybe try that thing Yokai did when they acted pleased, with the corners of their mouth up and teeth showing. _“An extra set of eyes and ears is SERIOUSLY useful.”_

_“I thought the Yokai was your pet,”_ Boulders-on-Hill said.

_“It’s more of an equal-partnership thing. Come on, you know you can’t resist….”_ Paws up and together, repeating the motion…cheer when he saw the sag that meant Obake would relent.

“Fine, but I’m not feeding it, and when it eats you I don’t want to hear it,” Obake groused, stalking back to the carry-tool.

_“Excuse you,”_ Boulders-on-Hill sniffed, as Hiro followed Obake—grabbed the carry-tool and started dragging it back into the cave.

“You’re going to be the death of me, I’ve decided,” Obake continued, hefting the carry-tool up and heading further into the cave. “Of all the awful deaths I could have ever conceived for myself, I would have thought that _death by Night Fury_ would be more impressive than aggravating.”

_“Oh come on, you like it,”_ Hiro insisted—looked at Boulders-on-Hill when they were close enough. _“So how are you getting in and out? Do you have to hunt at night?”_

_“Mmm?”_ she noised. _“Oh no, I just stay on sort of the back-end of the island—come on, I’ll show you.”_

She headed further into the cave, strangely enough—Hiro chuffed at Obake, who picked up the burning stick and followed.

“Ah,” he noised, when they reached two branching tunnels in the back of the cavern. “Now I wonder when _that_ came through here.”

That? _“What do you mean?”_ he asked.

Boulders-on-Hill glanced back. _“I guess he means the tunnels—a Whispering Death did these.”_

Hiro _might_ have heard about this one in passing. _“We didn’t have any of those in my flight—what kind of dragon are they?”_

_“Burrowing kind, long and thin with a big mouth built for munching through rock—they can eat a whole island if it’s small enough or if they’re big enough, but mostly they like to find big sturdy ones and make a nest in them. One of my cousins knew a few, you see, before she got…well, eaten.”_

Ah. _“I’m sorry.”_

_“Don’t be—none of us could do anything, not really.”_ Sigh, continue through the winding tunnel, ignoring the side turnings that Hiro and Obake continually paused at to peer in. Some seemed like they were intended as sleeping caverns, others angled sharply up or sharply down.

“I _hope_ that thing’s gone,” Obake said, trying to peer up into the gaping darkness of one of the tunnels. “On a positive note, if I had known about these earlier I would have _definitely_ come here sooner.”

_“It does seem like a cool place to hide,”_ Hiro agreed. _“Hey—how friendly are Whispering Deaths anyway?”_

_“I think usually they prefer to keep to themselves,”_ Boulders-on-Hill called back, glancing over her shoulder. _“And I haven’t smelled any fresh dragon scents—I think if one was here, it’s gone by now.”_

Huh, pity. Keep following the Gronkle, past another soft turn—

“Don’t tell me we’re actually on the other _side_ of the mountain,” Obake muttered, as a circle of blue sky appeared. Follow Boulders-on-Hill up to it—

Got smacked in the face with a breeze again, only much stronger—strong enough to blow Obake’s flaming stick out—looked out over the ocean from a respectable distance up—

Looked down at where it crashed against rocks a _long_ way down.

“Charming,” Obake said finally, sounding a little faint. “But not very useful if you can’t fly.”

_“I’ve been coming out through here so I can fish,”_ Boulders-on-Hill explained. _“Not when there’s water-travelers around, but they don’t usually come this way. Plenty of fish, safe place to sleep, out of the elements and the weather…honestly it was surprisingly quiet until you guys showed up.”_

Hiro considered the drop. _“So you can catch fish anytime? So long as there’s no water-travelers around?”_

_“Yup.”_

Hiro looked up at Obake, grinning gummily. _“I think we’re going to like it here.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I’ve said, we're definitely going to be seeing more of this and my other fics soon—I'm knuckling down on active fics this month, and a conversation the characters had has now jumpstarted some stuff and put other things in motion and Obake is just really going to have a frustrating time. ^^;
> 
> The title in this chapter is also based on a line from the Owl City song "Take To The Sky"—love that song. :D


	21. Cooking Up Theories and Plans in High Caverns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 21, everybody! In which Hiro and Obake make themselves comfortable in their new digs…look, _someone_ dug it out, it still counts.
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney
> 
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks

Okay, the view was fair enough, location was nice…Obake just questioned the neighbors.

Especially considering it was a full-grown—or at least close enough—Gronkle that was following them around now, watching with interest when he relit the torch and then trotting after them as they made their way back through the winding cave.

“I mean, you _could_ work,” Obake told it after a while. “But you look like you’d be uncomfortable to ride on for any length of time.” It might have to do in a pinch though—

Okay hold it go back he was considering using a Gronkle he just met to fly off yes he had gone off the deep end tie him to a mast he was done. Sigh as he reached the main cavern—

Pause before going down the other tunnel.

“Wrr?” Hiro noised.

“We haven’t seen down here yet,” Obake informed him. “And I’d rather know which tunnel to watch, if it’s all the same to you.” Let’s see, what did he know of Whispering Deaths besides the fact that they liked to tunnel? Extensive warrens, would often reduce an island to swiss cheese just for the fun of it, more than one village had slid into the ocean because a Whispering Death had undermined the very rock they were sitting on. Also, if this tunnel was anything to go by, the jaws on this particular one were _huge._

These musings and eventual puzzling over how to take one down if he had the misfortune to encounter it led them to a tunnel that angled straight down into the heart of the mountain. Maybe even under the village. Consider it, pull a bit of tinder from a pocket, light it—drop it in the hole—

It burned out well before it could reach the bottom. Glance around, spotted some small rocks, kicked one in, listen—

Hiro was listening too, he noted with amusement, ear flaps out as they waited for the sound of impact—count the seconds, calculating….

“I’m going to say that’s beyond our means,” he decided finally. “And hopefully the Whispering Death that made these tunnels is long-gone. Come on then.”

Retreat to the main cavern, set up a temporary camp, head out as Hiro chuffed at the Gronkle, prompting it to leave back through the caverns—might be a sign that the tunnels were empty, he couldn’t imagine a Whispering Death hosting other dragons.

Speaking of things he couldn’t imagine: Hiro talking down a Gronkle that had seemed perfectly fine with the idea of killing Obake.

“I almost want to know what you told that dragon,” he said to Hiro as they headed back towards the treeline. “Except I’m almost certain it was something insulting. Let me guess: _you don’t want him, he’s all tough and gamey.”_

Hiro looked at him, confused—barked as he recognized their current mission as collecting firewood.

“Just because I’m roughing it doesn’t mean I must freeze to death doing so,” Obake told him. “I’ve no desire to repeat _that_ action.”

Hiro chuffed, followed after him with a decent-sized log in his mouth—okay, walking up and down this would obviously hurt after a while. On the positive side, he couldn’t imagine Yama coming up here, which had been part of the rationale behind this location.

And in the quest to keep this a secret, besides keeping away from the ledge—rig up a frame, set it up near the entrance, throw a blanket over it.

“Wrr?” Hiro noised.

“So we won’t be seen when we light a fire,” Obake explained. Stretch a little….“Well, back to the other task at hand.”

So yes, he had to hike back and forth anyway—hopefully he wouldn’t be _too_ sore tomorrow. Find a spot where two stalagmites grew close, arrange the wood between, treating the rocky points like a wood rack, start unpacking his rucksack with the intention of trying to make things _vaguely_ comfortable—

_“Acht!”_ he snapped upon seeing Hiro nosing into the basket—startling the dragon backwards. “I’d like to actually eat sometime, thank you.”

Hiro huffed at him, went to the end of the leash and tugged.

“And what do you want?” he asked. “I’m not going back to the village. Not so long as I can help it.”

Hiro sat and looked at him, with that expression that made him think the dragon was trying to figure him out somehow. Definitely intelligent.

The Gronkle and the Terrors were too.

Bark in surprise when the Gronkle came back, jaws unhinging—

Spilling a bunch of fish across the cavern floor, sending them sliding wetly up to the kindling he was getting ready to start. He couldn’t help the dumbfounded stare—shot a look at Hiro’s triumphant bark—

“The basket is still mine,” he said crossly, tugging the basket away from Hiro. The little dragon huffed, slurped up one of the fish. “But this does reduce the need to sneak back into the village anytime soon.” Look when a fish bumped against his leg, realized the Gronkle was nosing another one over. “Thank you, I suppose.” Yes, definitely intelligent.

This either simplified or complicated things beyond recognition.

Hiro happily sprawled next to the fire, belly full, explaining as much as he could about Yokai-training to Boulders-on-Hill as they watched Obake feed the tame-fire and share his food with it.

_“Maybe they have a relationship with fire,”_ Boulders-on-Hill guessed, watching as he laid a fish in the hot coals. _“Like how we breathe fire and have it in us. Maybe they can make it like we can, but they don’t pull it from inside themselves, they just…pull it out of nowhere somehow.”_

Hiro hummed pensively, considering. _“Every time he’s made fire that I’ve seen he uses rocks,”_ he told her. “ _Maybe Yokai can pull fire from rocks?”_

_“Maybe they’re like Gronkles,”_ she mused, scratching her neck. _“We eat rocks to help make our fire.”_

_“Yeah, but he doesn’t eat the rock—he hits them against each other.”_

They both had to puzzle that one out.

“ _Sometimes if a dragon hits their claws against rocks too hard they make sparks,”_ she said finally. _“Maybe that’s it?”_

_“Maybe,”_ Hiro said, watching Obake tug ground-plants out of the fire, obviously painfully aware of their attention and doing his best to ignore them. _“Although I wonder how they figured out rocks could make sparks. Is it any rock?”_

_“Right now I’m more curious about his diet—why is he eating plants? Is he sick? Is he not getting the right nutrients?”_

_“My thinking is Yokai have different stomachs than we do—he drinks leaf-water and eats rotten fish on maggots.”_

_“EW.”_

_“I know, right? At least he’s eating fresh fish this time—but maybe we don’t keep any around long enough to go bad that still seems like bad dietary choices.”_

_“And who’s egg did he steal to get that?”_ she asked, sniffing at the metal egg sitting in the fire—which Obake moved.

“I’ll thank you to leave my tea _alone_ ,” he said sternly.

_“He’ll fill that egg with water and leaves and put it in the fire and then drink the whole thing,”_ Hiro told her. _“It’s weird and kind of gross.”_

_“Still think he’s missing something in his diet.”_

Hiro couldn’t argue with that, but Obake seemed to be nearing the end of his fish—shuffle closer, trying a different variation of the cute-face _oh_ he _would_ defeat him—

“And I should give you this after you’ve been gossiping about me why?” Obake asked.

In response Hiro sat up—and then did Sit Up, the thing where he was supposed to sit on just his haunches and tail. Obake considered him…finally relented the fish.

_“So he shares his food with the fire and you,”_ Boulders-on-Hill mused, turning everything over. _“Maybe they think of fire the same way they do dragons?”_

_“Not sure,”_ Hiro said, licking his chops. “ _This is still a work-in-progress, you realize.”_

They lapsed into silence then, absorbing the heat from the tame-fire as Obake sipped at his leaf-water.

“Unless I miss my timing, there should be a dragon raid tonight,” Obake said finally. “Another reason I wanted to make us scarce. We should be hearing it soon, actually.”

Hiro pricked his ears, listening, both welcoming and dreading the news. Dreading because dragons died on these raids, welcoming because maybe this would be the raid that brought Older-Brother.

“ _What did he say?”_ Boulders-on-Hill asked, looking up from staring into the tame-fire.

_“He says that a raid is coming,”_ Hiro said.

The Gronkle dug her claws into the rock, tension and worry flickering across her. _“I’m…not sure if…I think I’d rather stay in here, if it’s all the same. I don’t want to risk being dragged back to the queen.”_

_“I don’t blame you,”_ Hiro told her, still listening. _“I’m just…kind of hoping my brother comes. I miss him.”_

She made a pensive noise at that, didn’t speak for several long moments.

_“Why do we fight them?”_ she asked, sounding more reflective than anything. _“Here we are, sitting in a cave with a Yokai, the monster you’re supposed to kill on sight before they kill you, and yet nothing happened after that first lunge.”_

_“To be fair, you scared both of us—we weren’t expecting a dragon.”_

_“He’s expecting them now,”_ she said, indicating how Obake was looking towards the cave entrance. _“Do they eat dragons? Maybe in befriending us he’s decided against eating dragons and that’s why he’s eating all this weird stuff now—he’s trying to fill that void in his diet.”_

Okay, that fell under _gross_ and _terrifying_ and he really didn’t want to think too hard on that theory. _“I mean, to be fair I really, REALLY hope that’s not it.”_

_“I do too—I’m a lot meatier than you are.”_

“Hush,” Obake noised, getting up—Hiro followed suit, trailed after him as he slowly slunk towards the cave entrance, senses straining as he tried to pick up whatever it was Obake had heard…except he heard nothing. Follow as he slipped around the thing he had set up—okay so it _did_ stop the light—step outside with him, scanning the starry skies, still listening for whatever he had sensed.

_“I don’t hear anything,”_ he said finally, looking at Obake.

Obake was looking around, seeming confused.

“The moon set—it’s late enough,” he muttered. “I would have thought the dragons would have attacked tonight.” Consider. “Well, I suppose I only have to avoid the village for a day for now—can’t throw me in the kill ring if there aren’t any dragons.”

There was that _kill ring_ again, the thing that sounded dangerous and deadly, like some form of Yokai-punishment. And—wait, what’d he say? And what’d he say earlier?

_“Hey,”_ Hiro chuffed. _“Didn’t you say something about a Gronkle in that nest? And didn’t that other Yokai talk about Terrors?”_

“What, Hiro.”

Hiro padded forward, straining at the leash until Obake followed, went to the edge of their little cliff until he was looking down at the nest, chuff at Obake again before looking around, scratching at the ground until he had to concede that he wasn’t getting anything to work with. Ah, didn’t he pack….

Obake seemed pleased at heading back in, amused at Hiro bounding ahead.

_“So what was it?”_ Boulders-on-Hill asked.

_“Nothing—there’s no raid,”_ Hiro told her, before digging in the carry-tool.

_“Hey!”_ Obake barked, hauling Hiro away. Hiro squirmed free, went back to the carry-tool, pulled free several dry-leaves—okay, think, the thing he used on the ones in the cove had always smelled of charcoal….

_“HEY!”_ Obake barked again—snatched the stick that Hiro had pulled from the tame-fire away. “Let’s not.”

Hiro huffed at him, thinking—finally mimed drawing runes on the dry-leaves. Obake considered him, obviously debating.

_“What’s going on?”_ Boulders-on-Hill asked as Obake finally rooted in the carry-tool. _“What are you doing?”_

_“There’s ways to communicate more directly with Yokai—like pictures,”_ Hiro explained as Obake took a tiny black thing and put it on the floor. Dip something in it, make the rune for _fish. “Oh wow that’s cool,”_ he noised, dipping a claw in, pulling it out and watching it drip back into the blackness.

“Don’t go crazy,” Obake ordered. “I’ve only got so much squid ink and you wouldn’t like the alternative.”

What was this anyway that it made black marks? Lick—tasted salty and like the ocean but also like something else—offer it to Boulders-on-Hill to test.

_“Tastes like when I ate a squid on a dare,”_ she reported.

Huh. Dip again, touch it to the dry-leaves—aha!

“I’m glad you listen well,” Obake sighed, watching as Hiro scrawled his concept as best he could. Okay, _kill ring_ sounded like something round with sharp teeth that was bad, draw a dragon in there, draw an approximation of himself and Obake next to it, then draw the three of them away from the _kill ring._ Push the dry leaf over, wait until Obake looked at him again to point first at the Yokai-nest, then at Boulders-on-Hill, then at them, then back at the Yokai-nest.

“I’ve decided I don’t understand you,” Obake announced. “Because I don’t like this alternative.”

Hiro gave him a look, drew his concept again. Maybe it wasn’t clear? What part wasn’t clear? Where the dragon was trapped looked suitably deadly…maybe draw the Yokai-nest around it? That could be it.

_“Stop that,”_ Obake sighed. “I know what you’re after—I just don’t like it.” Tip his head—ah, the idea struck him well, it seemed. “Although…I wouldn’t mind giving those fools the shaft….”

That sounded like Obake was on board with this plan.

Perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I've said, we're definitely going to be seeing more of this and my other fics soon—I'm knuckling down on active fics this month, and a conversation the characters had has now jumpstarted some stuff and put other things in motion and Obake is just really going to have a frustrating time. ^^;
> 
> Also, Hiro trying to figure out nonverbal communication continues to be entertaining for me. XD


	22. Jailbreaking and Entering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 22, everybody! Cue the _Mission Impossible_ music. :D
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney
> 
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks
> 
> Atlantis: The Lost Empire © 2001 Disney

There were two main problems with this plan, in Obake’s estimation.

Not with slipping in and out, no—they’d be watching the skies tonight, not the ground. Nor with the actual act of freeing the dragons—ah, to be a fly on the wall next morning when Yama and that idiot found the cages empty.

No, his main problem was Hiro.

He couldn’t leave him in the cave with the Gronkle, the Gronkle might eat him despite behaving. And he couldn’t take him with him because that would result in them both being dead.

This, apparently, was not a concern for the dragon, considering he kept trailing after Obake when he tried letting him off the leash and then keening when Obake tried tying him to a stalagmite.

“Okay,” he muttered finally, scrubbing at his face. “Okay, you stupid. Idiot. _Dragon.”_

Hiro huffed at him, glaring, black scales blending into the dark—

Hold it.

A modification of that one plan he had considered, of Hiro clinging on to the inside of his coat—the article was loose enough on him when open that Hiro could easily cling there without giving himself away, he thought.

He thought wrong, the extra weight tugged the coat sideways, but having Hiro cling to his vest worked—and yes, the coat hid the shape then.

Hiro was currently clinging to his back, though, as he rappelled down the cliff, the Gronkle acting as a counterweight. Didn’t make it all the way down, didn’t expect to—touch down on the roof he was aiming for, slip along its main beam and down one of the supporting ones to avoid sending up any telltale creaks. Sneak along the edges of the village, keeping to the darkest of alleys, avoiding any sounds—nearly tripped over one of Mole’s sleeping holes, the slight snoring being the only thing that tipped him off.

Getting into the kill ring was easy, considering he had designed it. No one was guarding it—no one needed to. No dragon had ever escaped his designs, and no one would be stupid enough to free the dragons. Even if they were, they couldn’t figure out the various bolts without the keys Yama kept on his person.

Ah, irony.

Anyone _else_ needed keys, that was how it worked. But Obake did nothing by halves, loved to overengineer everything—they needed keys, yes, unless you knew _just_ where to touch and lift.

Hiro barked at the first dragon, the Gronkle, which snorted awake, startled—seemed confused at the next several barks and yips but flew away with no further prompting. And judging by the silence, it was keeping low. Terrors next, all kept in separate pens annoyingly, also listening to Hiro as Obake opened the cages, all slipping away with fortunately no nips sent in his direction. Close all gates, cages, slip back out, back to the cliff face, having to stray closer to the center of the village—

“Hey!”

Nearly strangle himself keeping from crying out, flatten his back to the nearest wall, squashing Hiro unfortunately—

“Ah,” he noised, upon realizing it was Momakase. “To what do I owe the displeasure?”

“Seriously?” she asked. “No one’s seen you since the Nadder and that’s all you have to say?”

“I have better things to do than kill dragons for sport,” he said—at her disbelieving snort: “Fine. I have better things to do than to kill dragons for _those idiots’_ sport.”

“Like hunting down a Night Fury?” she shot.

Freeze—stay calm, don’t panic, keep a cap on your emotions—“Excuse me?”

“Isn’t that what you said you were doing? That’s what Dibs has been telling everybody.”

“The day I give Dibs’ comments any weight is the day I let a dragon cart me off,” he declared, shifting a little to try and keep Hiro from squeaking and wriggling.

“Give me two weeks’ notice, will you? I like to have a heads-up on my entertainment.”

“Indeed,” he said, watching her walk away. Don’t, don’t comment, you still have a dragon on your back—“Especially since tonight’s entertainment saw fit to skip out.”

She glanced back at him. “If that’s the case, you’d better get to bed—you’re in need of some beauty sleep.”

Glower at her as she left—consider—she’d double back and stalk him if he wasn’t careful—

Slip into the forge, locking it behind and retreating to an inner turning.

“Wrr?” Hiro noised once he was sat down.

“It’s the better option,” Obake assured him. “At least for right now.” She’d assume he went to the forge, leave it at that, and go about her business—

What if she didn’t? What if she decided to stake the place out?

Ugh, there were risks he was going to have to take—hope she didn’t, hope he could slip back to the rope, or to the forest, that that Gronkle was smart enough to pull the rope up and hide—

He could stay, yes, but that would just postpone the problem and mean he had to keep Hiro hidden all day. All it would take would be one little slip-up…no, he was going to have to go now, and with Hiro properly hidden.

Couldn’t help the wince at claws digging into his side, made sure he had the coat folded tight—ease out of the forge, glancing back and forth—

Take off, torn between the direct route and zig-zagging to lose a tail—Momakase was better than that though, and he’d wear out first—be clever, think—ah.

Double back on a route he had used on the way to the kill ring, deftly timing his step and jump to miss Mole’s sleeping spot—which Momakase missed, judging by the curses and exclamations. A couple extra turns, skid to a halt by the cliff, scouring his surroundings—

Climbing back _up_ the side of the building was a lot more effort than climbing down it, especially after a run through the village—climbing up the rope wasn’t much better, he really needed to machine something up—

Gasp, hang on when the rope started going up, minor moment of panic before he kicked his feet at the cliff, hastening his ascension—

Rolled over the edge, gasping his relief and accidentally squishing Hiro. Oh man…that had been too close….

“I hope you’re happy,” he told the little black dragon sternly, struggling upright—flinched back at the Gronkle bounding over, wiggling happily and chuffing, a loop of rope in its mouth—follow it to see that the dragon had apparently figured out that by running around a boulder first it could run the length of the clearing while still pulling on the rope.

“Very clever,” he told it, taking the rope from its mouth—hesitate a little before untying it, having to work around it bouncing around with Hiro—

Barking with disgust when it rounded on him and licked his face.

“Do you _mind!?”_ he demanded, scrubbing the saliva off—disgusting enough to make his skin crawl—

No…that tingling was from that _other_ dragon-related issue.

Except…why? That never flared up unless he let his emotions get the best of him—maybe he was just exhausted, that could be it.

Except the fact that it had coincided with a dragon interacting with it….

No. He wasn’t getting to the bottom of this tonight, he was exhausted and emotionally strained and he was going to get that rope, go in that cave, and collapse on his makeshift bed, strange dragons or no.

It seemed a solid enough plan, even with the Gronkle curling up around a good chunk of the fire or Hiro curling up against his chest. Incriminating, yes—but hopefully no one had seen them come up here.

That was thin hoping though—he needed a plan, backup plans, traps maybe….

He fell asleep dreaming of worst-case scenarios.

Jian’s so-called _professional bedside manner_ apparently didn’t prevent amusement at their injuries.

“You actually sprained your ankle stepping on _his_ head,” he asked, indicating Mole holding a cold compress to his head.

“It’s not my fault he sleeps in a hole in the middle of an alley,” Momakase muttered, still steaming.

“Excuse _moi?”_ Mole asked. _“I_ was asleep to ze _side_ of ze alley, thank you very much! _You_ were the one running down it like it was going out of style!”

“And if there had been a dragon raid?”

The field doctor whistled, redirecting their attention. _“_ And _why_ were you running down an alley in the middle of the night?” he asked her.

Oi, telling him would involve sharing her suspicions about Obake—no, not even suspicions, just a weird feeling, like he was hiding something. Yes, he was evading Yama and Sparkles, but something else felt off.

“I saw Obake,” she said finally, deciding to stick to the basics—guesses and theories weren’t going to help her right now. “And I was trying to follow him and see where he’s been hiding.”

Jian’s snort as he finished tying off her splint said what he thought of that.

“Well, you two will be staying in here for the night, so no hunting ghosts for you,” he said, grabbing the lamp. _“In the bed,_ Mole.”

“I object to being forced to sleep on this uncomfortable slab,” Mole said crossly.

“ _I_ object to your questionable hygiene,” Jian countered, heading further into the infirmary, carved into the cliff base like so many other crucial places.

“And _I_ object to your sleeping habits,” Momakase said, crossing her arms and looking away, glaring at nothing. She was still steamed at losing Obake over something so stupid, and the fact that she had hit it and Obake hadn’t, hadn’t shown any tells like swerving around—Obake had known and led her right into it. She felt like an idiot for falling for such a trap.

And as for why she had been chasing after him—he had been acting weirdly. Well, weird _er—_ Obake could never exactly be considered an example of a normal human being. Mole couldn’t either, but questioning _his_ behavior would take most of the week.

Except she couldn’t put her finger on _why_ she thought Obake’s behavior was off—she couldn’t exactly blame him for hiding from Yama and Sparkles, or staying out of the village after missing a raid on a wild goose chase. He never much cared for interacting with anyone else, keeping it to only when strictly necessary, was mostly left to his own devices. So what had changed, that was making her question his behavior _now?_

The Nadder, she realized—she could get Ralph or Juniper or even Carl hesitating at killing a dragon outside the heat of the moment. She could get Obake refusing to play the game out of fury at being thrown in there.

She didn’t get him bolting out of there as soon as he could, or what she overheard Carl telling Dibs later, that he had stayed in the forge doing very little the rest of the day. Something had changed in his behavior—and shifting behavior was never a good sign.

Sigh, sink into the bed—she wasn’t figuring this out tonight. Probably wouldn’t get a chance tomorrow or the next day either—Jian would insist she keep her weight off her leg. Good news was, she could avoid being thrown in the kill ring tomorrow (if anyone was still stupid enough to believe that was a lottery instead of those two torturing people they didn’t like she’d eat her bandanna).

But she’d figure this out—Obake was hiding _something._

She just had to figure out what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Obake’s starting plan regarding a dragon in his pocket was something I initially visualized until I remembered that some of my coats sag when I put something as heavy as a _Nintendo DS_ in them, so no _hey buddy wanna buy a dragon_ moments for the boys. XD The vest still works, theoretically.
> 
> And yes, we’re getting characters from another Disney movie making an appearance—does it count as a Disney movie when Disney keeps pretending it doesn’t exist?...Jian is an original character, by the way, and has the bedside manner of Doctor House or Doctor Becker.


	23. Spelunking and Speculating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 23, everybody! FFN is being a jerk about updating chapters if you’re not using the app, so to everyone who came here from FFN after my PSAs: welcome! :D
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney
> 
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks

Getting up the next morning was more of a process than anything else, and he had to remind himself that wishing Carl would show up with a cup of coffee was counterintuitive to the whole plan.

Moving on…breakfast. Small breakfast, cold tea, work on getting woke up while the dragons dozed.

Dragons. As in plural.

He sat there, considering the Gronkle in the dim lighting. Seemed quick to warm up to him thanks to whatever Hiro had ‘said.’ Probably helped that he wasn’t actively trying to kill it.

That wasn’t the secret, was it?

No. No, the dragons had attacked them for ages, well before any of them tried fighting back. And yet these two were perfectly well-behaved, for dragons, considering he had survived a night with them.

And there was Hiro, off the leash and out of the harness, still here.

Maybe the Night Fury was the key. The Gronkle would have attacked if not for Hiro. Maybe that was why no one had ever been able to accomplish this before—no one had ever seen a Night Fury before, therefore they lacked the key needed to tame dragons.

At least, no one _living_ had.

There was _one_ person, over an age ago, long enough that her work had fell to myth and been lost to the sands of time—Lenore Shimamoto. According to the stories, she had tamed and communicated with dragons, turned them peaceful and lived in coexistence with them in a gleaming city-island of her own design.

But if any of that _did_ happen, it had happened over a thousand years ago. There were bits and pieces of her documentations, most famously her journal, but the rest had about as much weight as the celestial dragons of the Middle Kingdom, that had descended from the high mists of their mountains to impart wisdom upon their people.

And yet….

He wanted to dismiss it—he had been obsessed with Shimamoto as a child, enough that their old chief had given him anything that came through on her to him for study. The closest he had ever gotten to her journal was a collection of copies of various pages—the journal itself was as lost to time as Shimamoto was.

But at the same time….

Such a pity he didn’t have those documentations still—he was certain _she_ had taken them all, not wanting to dare risk them falling into the hands of someone who had declared his intent to kill dragons. He’d either have to rely on his own blunted memories of them or start from scratch.

A momentary drift where he pictured fielding this current experiment by her, forget the rest of the tribe for a moment—how would _she_ have reacted? With fear and trembling? Or would she have been intrigued once he demonstrated Hiro’s obvious intelligence?

Probably not—she had that _thing_ about _limits_. This would have been declared _too dangerous_ at best.

Sigh, shake his head. Again, no point on dwelling on what-ifs. The past was set in stone, and thus he would make the future _his_.

Which meant he needed to get started with that important stage of planning ahead: observation, information gathering, and plain old _plotting._

While he was at it, probably plan for some traps as well—again he had to remind himself that no amount of agonizing on how he could have done last night better would change the fact, he simply had to plan ahead on what _had_ happened. Pull the screen aside so more light could come in, stick his head out to see if anyone was skulking about outside, duck back in and go to his rucksack.

He was finished with his second cup of tea when Hiro finally stirred awake, rolled to his stomach and looked at him with a squeak.

“Morning,” he greeted, still focused on the task at hand. This was the closest he had ever gotten to a _live_ Gronkle, and so he figured he might as well document the event.

Two dragons could be a good thing—he could find out if what worked on Hiro worked on Gronkles—and if two such disparate dragon species shared the same quirks then—

Then he had something to work with.

Hiro discussed the events of last night with Boulders-on-Hill as Obake continued to make sand-pictures on dry-leaves with squid ink. Yes, that was weird, but apparently it was how Yokai entertained themselves and entertained Yokai didn’t eat dragons.

_“So there’s another Gronkle in the area?”_ she asked. _“Maybe I ought to catch them, start a flight in the area.”_

_“I’d be careful about flying around today,”_ he warned. _“The Yokai are probably looking for Gronkles right now.”_

_“Mmm…fair enough. But I’ll start looking tonight I hope they didn’t just fly straight back to wherever—is there an alpha dragon nearby who isn’t totally awful?”_

Hiro felt his face crumple at that—an alpha that wouldn’t eat a dragon that came back late from a raid? Not likely at all. _“No…I don’t think so.”_

_“Figures,”_ she huffed, scratching absently at the rocky floor of the cavern. _“Okay then, so my plan is to find them and maybe start a different flight somewhere else.”_

_“We’d miss you if you left, though,”_ Hiro told her. _“And if you want other dragons, there’s a flock of Terrors on one of the nearby sea stacks.”_

_“Eh…I’m not that desperate yet.”_

Hiro snorted at that, padded over to see what Obake was doing. Pictures of him again, and then also of Boulders-on-Hill. Very cool.

_“What is he doing now?”_ Boulders-on-Hill asked.

_“He’s making pictures,”_ Hiro supplied. _“And doing Yokai scribble-language next to them—they have a second language that involves them making scratches that mean things.”_

_“Like marking territory?”_

Good question—he’d have to figure out a way to see. In the meantime, paw a blank dry-leaf over. Dip a claw in the squid ink, gently scraping it on the side like he kept seeing Obake do, make the scribble-mark for _fish_ , not as splotchy as his drawing last night. Chuff at Obake, who had been watching out of the corner of his eye. The Yokai made a pensive noise—dug in the thing he called a _basket_ —

It was dry like it had been sitting in the sun for a few days, but it was still fish—scoop it up, gnaw on it a bit to get it slippery and swallowable, tip his head back.

_“What is it with you and eating fish that’s been dead for a while?”_ he demanded of Obake once the fish was in his stomach.

Boulders-on-Hill was intrigued, if the way she shuffled forward was any indication. _“Why did he do that? What did you do?”_

_“It’s this,”_ Hiro said, pointing at the scribble he had made. _“See, this scribble means ‘fish’—if you write it, then he gives you one.”_

Boulders-on-Hill made a pensive noise, looking—Obake noticed, capped and took away his squid ink before either of the dragons could act further.

“We do have other things to do,” he announced, getting up.

_“I should probably rest up,”_ Boulders-on-Hill decided. _“I’ll be looking for that other Gronkle tonight.”_

_“Just be careful,”_ Hiro offered, half-spreading his good wing so Obake could hook the harness back on.

The leash reminded him of something though.

_“Hey,”_ he barked, stopping Boulders-on-Hill from leaving just yet. _“How’d you tug us up like that? Last night?”_

_“Hmm? Oh,”_ she noised. _“When you were running up you looked kind of panicked, and I guess I panicked too, so I ran back against the cliff face—and then I thought I should go back and help, but I noticed I ran around a rock when I came back, and that it was still pulling the not-vine, so I ran the other way so it would keep pulling.”_

_“Cool,”_ Hiro said, grinning—and it was, he needed to figure out how to use something like that, or if it’d be useful in the future. _“Well, have a good nap! We’re going to go out and do things. Cool things.”_

_“You be careful too,”_ she said, nudging Hiro when he made to follow Obake. Looked at him like she was debating asking another question….“ _I’ll have more questions when I come back.”_

_“We’ll be here, probably.”_

She nodded, went deeper into the cavern.

“So that happened,” Obake observed. When Hiro chuffed: “I think this is going down on my list of weirder days.”

Hiro was inclined to agree.

Obake made sure to clean everything up and hide it before taking Hiro and sneaking out. The priority today was simply getting more firewood—he didn’t want to stay exposed for too long after news of the dragons’ escape broke. Chances were, the Yokai would be combing the island and the surrounding area, despite the waste of time that would be—if those dragons were _smart_ , they’d be long-gone.

But regrettably, Yama was not, he’d be sending people out to search for the missing dragons, and if anyone agreed it would be either out of boredom or a desire to get away from the village. Either way, he didn’t want to run into anyone.

Hiro seemed confused about having the exploration cut short but didn’t complain, and had fortunately been antsy and cautious the whole time. Good, smart dragon.

Unfortunately, that didn’t leave much else for them to do—put the screen at the far end of the cavern to hide the tunnel, spend a chunk of the day more thoroughly exploring what they could of the tunnels.

A more thorough exploration just showed that there was still very little available to them, all things considered—the other caverns were spherical, like something had burrowed it out for the express purpose of curling up in, could probably be converted into something useful. Apartments or offices, maybe—a whole secret lair, just for them.

Now if only he had more to stock it with.

But the other tunnels were too sheer to do much with—one did branch out at an angle they could explore, but quickly angled in such a way that gravity nearly claimed him and sent him shooting down, possibly to several broken bones and a hungry Whispering Death. No, that wasn’t an option.

“How good is your capability to see in the dark?” Obake asked once they were recovered in the main tunnel, pointing at one of the side turnings. Hiro shook his head—ah, so his night vision relied on building on the little light he could get, not simply ‘seeing in the dark.’ “I’m guessing the Gronkle wouldn’t be much better?” Another head shake. “I suppose _that’s_ out then.”

Went to the opening that looked out over the ocean, noted the ships that usually didn’t bother with this side and were currently fighting the wind. Hmm, so he was going to guess he was _right,_ and that Yama had been stupid and sent people out hunting. And unless he was mistaken….

“Wrr?” Hiro noised, as Obake pulled out the small spyglass he had made sure to grab on the way out the door.

“It’s called voyeurism,” he explained, before peering through, shading the end with a hand to keep from catching the sun and alerting those below to their location. Yes, the Yokai on the ship were doing the closest their tribe ever came to a day trip, lazing on the deck and probably asking _y’think it’s been long enough for Yama to believe we looked?_ What a bunch of buffoons.

“Wuff,” Hiro noised, pawing at him as he folded the spyglass up.

“I’m not sure how effective it would be for dragons,” he told him, holding it so he could sniff at it and peer at the glass. “Considering you’re built for stooping on prey from on high.”

Hiro sat back, huffing as Obake pocketed the spyglass and retreated further into the tunnel. Came to sit next to him, huff again.

“Considering our options,” he explained, staring at the opposite wall and ignoring the pebble digging into his thigh. “This would be a good place for a base, but it only has one viable exit. Granted, the cove does too, but it also has the minor weaknesses of flooding easily and having a space for others to shoot down in. Like fish in a barrel.”

Hiro perked up at the mention of fish—well, there was _one_ way to kill some time….

Go back to the cavern where he had stored the rucksack and basket, bring both with him after some debate—would rather use natural light for as long as he could to ration the wood…might definitely convert one of these round caverns, the more he thought about it the more he liked the idea and was already racing ahead to what he could do with it all.

Dump both in the closest cavern to the opening, pull out a few more dried fish before retreating back to the curve that let the light in. Hiro looked less than enthused at the proffered fish.

“Sorry, but going and getting fresh is going to have to _wait,”_ he said, gesturing to the opening to indicate the boat still out there. “I’d much rather lay low for now instead of getting killed just because you were feeling peckish.”

Hiro huffed, but seemed to see the logic—sat down when prompted, went through all the little tricks he knew Hiro knew for sure, gave him the first piece and an apologetic look when Hiro gnawed on it before swallowing.

“Okay— _stay,”_ he ordered, pointing. “Put. There. Stay. _Stay.”_ Start walking away, Hiro watching him with confusion—

“That is not _stay,”_ he said, when Hiro trotted after him. Dangit he was definitely going to need Hiro to know this one if he was going to start operating out of here. Either that or rig up some sort of barrier to keep him in. Actually might have to have a few of those anyway for where the tunnels angled down and dangit now he was considering basically babyproofing a Whispering Death lair.

But working on _stay_ carried them through the afternoon, finally called it quits when it started getting dark, had Hiro do _lie down_ so he’d feel like he got something out of this whole thing, retreated back to the one cavern, pausing only to let the Gronkle buzz by. Seemed the prudent approach.

Hiro entertained himself with poking through the cavern to his heart’s content as Obake got things set back up. Lit a fire, paced about considering where he’d put what and how he could arrange it to hide it best. Gray or dark blankets would be best to cover any tables he might make in here, would protect and hide it at the same time, continued to pace in a circle as he entertained this fancy. Let’s see, pros would be nice location at a distance to the village that wouldn’t flood and if he had found this as a boy no one would have ever seen him he would have skipped having to return to that annoying orphanage every night and certainly wouldn’t have had to _deal_ with anyone. Cons being that there was only one exit he could use, there were pitfalls if he weren’t careful (might spend some time tomorrow pacing out the cavern so he could navigate in the dark if he had to), and if it were discovered it would be too easy to pin him in here. Also, there was no guarantee that the Whispering Death that made this warren was gone, just the fact that the dragons seemed calm enough in using the space.

Finally did sit down on his little bed of blankets, Hiro padding over after a while.

“What do you think?” he asked the little dragon. “Shall we call this a secret base or does that sound too much like what a little boy would come up with?”

Hiro barked, bounded over to a stalagmite, reared up and scratched at it until deep claw marks crisscrossed it, rubbed his jaw against it before bounding back to him and yipping, bouncing up and down excitedly.

“I’m guessing that’s your way of saying you like it here too,” Obake said, considering the marred rock. Marking territory, perhaps? Well it was better than the alternatives other animals employed.

Hiro chuffed, the sort of noise that sounded agreeing enough, padded back over to curl up next to him.

“Sounds a little quiet tonight,” Obake observed. “I wonder whatever happened to the dragons.”

What indeed.

Honeysuckle started awake at being pawed at, sat up quickly—

Exhaled in relief when she saw it was Older-Light-Fury.

_“Are you okay?”_ she asked.

Older-Light-Fury huffed. _“Don’t ask me, you’re the one who looks dead on her paws.”_

Older-Light-Fury looked dead on her paws too, and wrung out—

And like she was planning on charging into that cave and fighting Mountain-King herself.

Swift-Strike sensed it too. _“Older-Light-Fury, we still need you.”_

Older-Light-Fury huffed again but relented, pawing forward a fish she had brought. Swift-Strike bit it in half, swallowed the tail and nudged the head to Honeysuckle.

_“How’s progress?”_ Older-Light-Fury asked, curling up on Honeysuckle’s other side.

_“Slow,”_ Honeysuckle said, looking at her nubby claws. _“We can’t dig through fast enough—our claws aren’t strong enough.”_

_“One of Blue-Firescales’ snapped,”_ Swift-Strike said. _“Healing-Talons thinks it’s from not eating regularly.”_

Honeysuckle put a paw on Older-Light-Fury’s at her growl. _“We’ll keep trying—we’ve got to, right? there’s still a chance.”_

Older-Light-Fury sighed, rested her head between her paws and closed her eyes.

_“Yes,”_ she said finally. _“Yes—we can’t lose faith just yet.”_

_“Um.”_

They looked up sharp at that noise, saw a couple of young Gronkles peering in.

_“Nadder-Mother-to-Everybody said we should come and help,”_ one said.

The other nodded. _“And she said it was a secret and we had to be real sneaky about it.”_

_“And that we were helping Older-Brother get out.”_

_“And that you needed a break.”_

Honeysuckle felt warmth soaking under her scales, more when Nadder-Mother-to-Everybody followed them in, the two Gronkles scurrying to the tunnel in the ice—opened her mouth and spilled more fish out.

_“Mountain-King’s nice and full, so he’ll not be bothering us about fishing for a bit,”_ she explained, before getting a sharp look in her eye. _“I spilled in some hard-seafoam with my offering—too greedy to notice at all.”_ Tip her head, shrug. _“Course, it won’t do much, but it makes me feel better.”_

_“Petty—I can dig it,”_ Swift-Strike said—nudged a fish at Healing-Talons when he padded out, surprised.

_“There are two Gronkles digging in the tunnel,”_ he reported once the fish was in his stomach.

_“We know.”_

_“I figured you’d need a break and those two needed something to do,”_ Nadder-Mother-to-Everybody said. _“I’ll see about which of my other children can be discreet and helpful with this while I’m working through them.”_

Honeysuckle exchanged blank looks with Healing-Talons, looked at Older-Light-Fury.

_“We’re getting Older-Brother out,”_ she said in a quiet growl. _“And then we’re leaving.”_

Leaving—leaving like they fantasized all those turns ago, flying off into the unknown with its many dangers and no alpha—

But the alpha they had now was no help to them—they were better off throwing themselves into the dangerous yonder than staying here—Older-Brother was proof of that.

_Okay,_ she thought, digging her claws into the ground and wincing when that aggravated the sore nubs. _Okay. We can do this. Get Older-Brother out, leave Mountain-King, get Little-Brother, fly away. It’s just the thing you always fantasized and planned about. We can do this. We have to make this work._

_We don’t have any other choice now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I told y’all that I did a lot of work on this last month to get it up and running again—love writing because Obake brings up a key plot point in Book II and I’m just sitting here going _“Ooh, tell me more.”_ XD
> 
> Also might have given him his lair from the show but up high instead of underwater don’t know yet.


	24. Tricks, Traps, and Tribulations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 24, everybody! Just watched the first HTTYD movie with the fam, and I am FEELING the dragon energy! \\.o./
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney  
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks

The Gronkle returned in the morning, startling Obake awake with its buzzing wings. Couldn’t quite see it, could hear where it landed—

“Okay,” he muttered after several minutes of groping for his torch and flint. “So if we decide to stay in _this_ cave we’re going to need an alternate light source.”

Small _wuff,_ answering _huff—_

Flinch as the cave was lit by fire from a dragon’s mouth. Glance over—

“Now _that_ is a clever trick,” he said, observing how the Gronkle’s mouth was flaming and licking around its upper jaw but not firing. Glance at Hiro. “Now why can’t _you_ do that?”

Hiro huffed, irritated—stamped his paws on the ground as Obake lit the fire, grounding himself—

The whistle made Obake start and scramble away, startled the Gronkle into closing its mouth—Hiro’s mouth was glowing, as was his nose—

Hiro made that sort of half-snort that came from an aborted or held-in sneeze, coughed—

A plasma blast screamed across the cavern, loud in its echoing chamber, and pulverized a stalagmite across the way.

Obake coughed, the sort you did when your heart did one of those missed beats, looked at Hiro coughing and snorting. “We’ll…have to work on that.”

Hiro chatted with the Gronkle a little before the Gronkle went to sleep—at least, it seemed like it.

Obake, meanwhile, retreated to the opening overlooking the ocean, Hiro padding after him shortly afterwards. Sit next to him, chuff.

“Wondering if Yama’s given up on hunting for those missing dragons and moved on to hunting me,” he explained. “If I don’t see a boat drift by today, I’m going with the latter.”

Hiro huffed and sagged—probably guessing this meant dried fish again.

“Tomorrow he’ll have run out of patience and moved on to the next thing,” Obake assured him. “We can go out then.”

Hiro perked up, made a sort of _wuff_ noise at him.

“Ah, you like that,” Obake noted. “Well, in the meantime—that fire in the mouth trick. I’m thinking the two main factors is the difference in fire and experience. The second one can be fixed easily enough, but the first…Gronkles basically fire lava blasts, and from what I’ve seen, Night Furies fire something between fire and lightning. It’s _designed_ to shoot long-distance, which means holding it in would be more advanced.” Look down from his musings to see Hiro gnawing under a foreleg. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Wuff,” Hiro noised, looking back up.

Sigh. “I suppose explaining the science behind it would be beyond you.” Make a face at Hiro making a face at him. “And you seem the sort of dragon to try a thing first and ask the questions later.”

Hiro barked, stood, steadied himself again, making sure his paws were firmly planted, summoned another plasma bolt—

Or tried to—the end noise sounded more like he was trying to clear his throat of mucus, ended up coughing again and produced a small burst of smoke. Huffed in disappointment at that and sat down.

Obake had other concerns. “One shot? That’s it?” Blink at Hiro’s nod and shrug. “Now wait a minute—I counted a lot more than _that_ in previous raids—there’d have to be a whole _flock_ of Furies—”

Hiro shook his head, tipped it in thought—looked at Obake, tapped himself, held up a paw, shook his head. Held the paw higher up, patted his head before lifting, nodded.

“Ah. It’s something you grow into.” When Hiro nodded: “That makes more sense.” And yet another thing he’d have to puzzle through on this ridiculous scheme of _so you think you can raise a Night Fury._ Ah, and things were going so _well_ , too.

But it gave him an interesting thing to focus on to fill the rest of the day—teaching Hiro the concept of numbers. And then having to edit the usual means of counting on fingers when he noted that Hiro only had four claws per paw.

He eventually tired of that little game, though, laid down and looked out over the ocean with a huffing sigh.

“Agreed,” Obake said, leaning back on his hands. “The sedentary lifestyle doesn’t suit me.”

Well, perhaps that wasn’t right—an active lifestyle, one that required running and jumping and anything above a brisk jog didn’t agree with him, never had. He had been told that the more he moved the better he would feel, which had some merit—it just didn’t extend to working up a sweat. Not in his childhood, and definitely not after healing from a dragon attack.

Glance at Hiro at that—again, he had to question his own logic. This had been a split-second decision that had spiraled off into a scheme that was getting dangerously close to the point of no return. If this ever came to light….

No. No, stay away from that, just think through things and be clever. Which, speaking of, he’d probably have to think about means to keep people _away_ from this cave….

The simplest response to that was to make it look like he was utilizing some other place, preferably somewhere on the opposite end of the island, at least on the other side of the mountain. Make it desperately tricky to get into, so everyone thought there was something especially worth noting, laugh as they struggled at the wrong location. No, when it came to _brute strength_ , he sadly missed the day they were handing that out.

Trickery, on the other hand, chicanery and cleverness and cunning—now _that_ he had in spades.

It almost made him think that he was overthinking this—he had been able to outthink a whole room of chiefs and marshals starting from a very young age, dealing with the average intelligence of the Yokai would be a cakewalk in comparison.

Except that wasn’t challenging. Except that thinking less of his opponent would result in them surprising and overpowering him. It was better to go in with every angle covered than to just cover the most basic and scramble when the other worked around that.

Momakase was a prime example—if it hadn’t been for Mole’s surprisingly useful sleeping spot, he would have been all over the island trying to lose her tail. Evading her like that would leave her wondering what he was up to, and with her stuck here instead of out on a raid, she’d be bored and itching to stir up trouble.

That would end badly if she crossed paths with him. For him, regrettably, not her.

There would need to be a way to lead a trail around and away from this cave and any paths he’d need to take, that much was clear. Maybe pick out a few likely false bases, drum up some paths between them…he wondered how hard it would be to train Hiro to help set those up….

Glancing at the dragon in question showed that he hadn’t moved at all, still staring morosely out across the ocean.

Heart thudded painfully—poke the dragon. “Hey!” he barked—oh don’t tell him, it was dead—

Hiro started, looked up at him in confusion.

“Don’t scare me like that,” he scolded, sagging back against the wall. “I thought you had died.” Look the dragon over, noted he was getting that gloomy look he had after the incident with the Terrors. “Now what’s wrong?”

Hiro considered this—pawed over one of the pebbles they had been using for the counting exercise, patted it and then himself, looking at Obake. Rolled two more over, drew a circle around those pebbles before looking at Obake again. Roll five more into the circle, draw the circle again, look back up at Obake.

“Ah,” he noised, sitting forward—Hiro had done this before, this little exercise in trying to explain things to Obake. “How strong _is_ a dragon’s familial unit, I wonder.”

Hiro sighed, looked back out over the ocean.

“I _would_ be sad to see you go,” Obake told him. “There’s nothing left for me here, not really.”

Twitch at that declaration—no, there had never been anything for him here, not really. A village that had hated him, a tribe that tolerated him for his ability to destroy things…he had put so much energy into pleasing _her_ , only for it to never pay off, instead poured his energy into the first person who offered him the freedom he so desired. But that freedom had been yet another trap, now hadn’t it? And a greater world that would fear him no matter what he did…what other options were there?

“I’m not living feral with a bunch of dragons,” he decided abruptly, prompting Hiro to look sharp at him, startled. “No offense, but all conversations thus far have been painfully one-sided. Not that I much _care,_ I just need more from such engagements.”

Hiro cocked his head in the way Obake was beginning to feel meant _the Yokai is acting crazy again._ Fair enough, he _was_ talking to a dragon.

“Yes I’m aware,” he huffed. “We’ll think of something. Or at least, I will.”

And hopefully tomorrow would be improved.

The Gronkle went out again that night, did come back with fresh fish before leaving again. So _that_ was going on his list of _things he didn’t know how to take._

In the meantime, though: early the next morning, sneaking down to the village, where he was certain the Yokai were becoming too lax due to a long break, steal several buckets and a few lengths of rope before scurrying off.

“Good boy,” he declared upon returning to Hiro’s hiding place—gave him a fish to distract him as he reattached the leash to his belt. “You finally got _stay._ Now come on, we have other things to do.”

Hiro seemed intrigued, bounding after him, sniffing about as Obake picked out a few clearings close to the village and cleaned them of fallen debris, arranging some rocks in a circle in the middle before bundling up some of the choicer sticks and carting them back to the cave.

Hiro was more interested in the next step, considering it involved him.

“About this wide and this deep,” Obake explained, using a stick to carve a circle in the still-damp earth. Hiro chuffed, set about at the task as Obake set up a small path to and from it, making it look like it was a space he frequented, rescued Hiro when he dug in too deep.

“It’s called a pit trap,” Obake explained, more for something to do while he was sticking sharpened sticks in the bottom of the hole, where water was already starting to puddle—at the very least, this would leave any pursuers miserable. “The main concept is someone blunders into it and falls in. Works nicely on boar.” Or it used to, at least.

It was still enough to pique Hiro’s interest—watched carefully as Obake crisscrossed sticks over it and then leaves as well. Spread leaves along the path too so it wasn’t so obvious, collect Hiro and the rest of his tools and continue on.

By midday he figured he had wasted enough time outsmarting Yokai, moved on to his other intentions for the day—go to a beach, fill the buckets with sand as Hiro rolled around cleaning mud from his scales, retreat back to the cave, huffing at having to lift several pounds of deadweight with a dragon making curious noises at him.

“There’s a point to this,” he assured Hiro—and himself, he needed that reminder too. Made it to the cave, got near where the fire had been…build a little ring around the fire before dumping the sand next to it.

“Firstly, this smothers the fire in an emergency,” he explained, tossing a handful on the freshly-lit fire to demonstrate. “Secondly….”

Hiro perked up when Obake wrote down the rune for _Hiro._

“So we don’t go through my whole supply of paper and ink,” he said, wiping the rune out and writing it again. “Somewhat inspired by the ash.”

Hiro warbled at that, wrote his name down—watched with interest after the first fish as Obake wrote a series of runes in the sand, including the three Hiro knew.

“Which ones are familiar to you?” he asked.

Hiro considered the line, copied down _fish, Hiro,_ and _Obake_ easily enough—patted under one of the other runes and gave a questioning huff to Obake.

“I suppose that’s the next lesson,” Obake decided.

This was a distracting enough activity for the next couple of days. Boulders-on-Hill didn’t come back, which was mildly disappointing…and yet weirdly enough, Hiro was fine with that. he had been wanting some spare time with his Yokai without having to answer a zillion questions, like there was some sort of underlying stress skittering under his scales at the extra supervision.

He wasn’t sure if he understood that—the point of the scheme was to show other dragons how to train a Yokai, he should be _welcoming_ extra eyes!

Maybe it was because each one was a microcosm of what to expect when Older-Brother finally came.

_This is still a bad idea,_ Imaginary-Older-Brother continued to insist. _You don’t know what he’s up to—you watched him set up a bunch of traps and you still want to trust him?_

Huff—yes, was that too much to ask?

Maybe. He’d be the first to admit that. watching Obake work with things, put things together, seeing how he looked at things and came to conclusions—there was something eerily intelligent about this particular Yokai.

Maybe that was normal—after all, you had to be either really smart or really stupid to fight dragons, which were the most awesomest of any living creature yes that was a word and if it wasn’t one in Dragonese then maybe it was in Yokainese and who cared it fit.

And learning these things, supervising his Yokai and learning how it counted and how scribble-languages worked and how they made up for an appalling lack of natural defenses with just plain old cleverness. Even if _training_ a Yokai failed, he’d have plenty to share with his flight on how to _counter_ them.

Except he didn’t like that idea as much anymore—Obake was obviously making an effort, a big one if Boulders-on-Hill was right and Yokai ate dragons. He showed that they _could_ make the effort, if they just put their minds to it—it was only fair to meet them halfway, to reward them for doing so.

And yet….

Sigh, making Obake look up from the scribbling on dry-leaves he was doing—let’s be real here, a good chunk of this was just him trying to distract himself from going totally stir-crazy while his wing healed, it _had_ to heal he couldn’t stand being a grounded dragon he’d go crazy—

_“Wrr,”_ he noised, when Obake scrubbed at his head between his ears, long not-claws curled up and kneading his skull. _“Hey, stop that.”_

“I don’t need you sulking again,” Obake told him. “You’ll be fine—you have a _new_ life now.”

Did he?

His mind ran back to a conversation with Boulders-on-Hill, about how happy she was to be away from her queen and how living alone on an island with Yokai on it was better than returning to her controlling nest—was this it? Was this the angle? Did Yokai somehow exert power over dragons, more subtle than any alpha?

Very subtle—as far as he could figure Yokai were persistent and clever, and _that’s_ what gave them the edge over dragons they needed. He needed to be cleverer, outsmart him and stay ahead—that’s what Older-Brother would definitely caution. You know, if he ever got past the whole _no this is a bad idea_ and focused on the _let’s iron out the kinks in this plan._

_You suck at this, I’ll have you know,_ he thought, glaring at the spot where he pictured Imaginary-Older-Brother sitting. _Constructive criticism, please—and note that he’s been with two dragons without killing them AND he let a bunch of others go._

Imaginary-Older-Brother lifted an ear-flap in skepticism. _“Oh sure—and what if Boulders-on-Hill is right and he used to eat dragons? You really trust he won’t get hungry and take a nibble sometime?”_

_“Oh shut up you’re just reaching now,”_ Hiro huffed. Looked at Obake when he lifted his paw away. _“No hey not you that actually felt good do you know how hard it is to reach there?”_

_Hrff._

_“Wha—oh hi,”_ Hiro greeted, as Boulders-on-Hill came in and deposited a mouthful of fish. _“How did hunting for the other Gronkle go?”_

_“Well I found him,”_ she said, scratching behind her ear as Obake gingerly picked a fish up and examined it. _“Tried to convince him to stick around, told him I had found a place that worked and that he shouldn’t go back to his sucky alpha—didn’t work, he said he was leaving and not stopping until he hit Dark Deep.”_

_“Hit where?”_

_“Eh, let’s just call it a very important island for Gronkles and such,”_ she said, looking them over. _“So how are things here? You two are looking decent.”_

_“We’ve been doing well, thank you—and since you’re here—over here on this side of the fire, I’ll show you the secret to communicating with Yokai.”_

_“I’m listening,”_ she said warily, watching as he smoothed the sand out.

_“Watch carefully,”_ he ordered, writing out the squiggle for _fish_ before chuffing at Obake. Obake glanced over, noted the squiggle, grabbed a fish and tossed it Hiro’s way.

_“This,”_ Hiro explained, jabbing the squiggle once the fish was safely in his stomach. _“Means ‘fish’ in the Yokai scribble language. If you make it in sand or dirt, they’ll give you fish.”_

_“That is very weird,”_ she observed, eyeing the squiggle critically. _“How does it work?”_

_“I’m not sure, but they’ve got a whole language built on this stuff—with it they can communicate without even seeing each other—it’s really interesting.”_

_“Hmm,”_ she noised, peering closer at the scribble. _“Hey, if I make this, would he give me a fish?”_

_“I don’t know—I’m the only one who ever bothered trying this so…maybe?”_

She made a pensive noise, examined the scribble again, painstakingly tried to imitate it….

Hiro huffed when she finished, redirecting Obake’s attention.

“What, Hiro?” he asked—twitched when Hiro pointed at the second squiggle. Looked at Boulders-on-Hill critically—

_“Scrub it out, do it again while he’s watching,”_ Hiro counselled. She huffed but did so, scrubbing out the squiggle before imitating Hiro’s again. Look at Obake, who looked dumbfounded.

_“Fish,”_ Hiro said, nodding. Flick an ear when Obake looked at him critically—

Boulders-on-Hill was quick to snap the fish out of the air.

_“So every time I make this squiggle he’ll give me a fish?”_ she asked.

_“He’ll give a fish for a lot of weird things,”_ Hiro assured her. _“Sitting, laying down, rolling over…Yokai apparently like these things.”_

_“Hmm,”_ she noised, sitting down—looked at Obake sharply.

_“Those he has to actually ask you,”_ Hiro told her. _“Don’t worry, it’s a work in progress, we can see about it the next time we go over it.”_ Walk over to Obake, sit down, look at the fish sitting in the fire before looking at Obake, who seemed lost in some sort of deep thought.

“You just taught that dragon how to do that, didn’t you?” he demanded abruptly, looking at Hiro. Hiro picked that apart in his head, decided it meant what he thought it did, nodded. “You—that’s….”

Hiro tipped his head when Obake trailed off, watched him lace his front paws together and rest his muzzle against them, glaring at nothing and back in that deep thought.

_“The fish are burning,”_ Boulders-on-Hill said. _“Doesn’t he usually take them out by now?”_

_“I think we broke him,”_ Hiro said, poking Obake experimentally with a claw. Obake flinched away, looking at him—made some sort of hissing and spitting noise when Hiro pointed out the burning fish, quickly fished them out and extinguished them—considered the crispy crunchy now-mostly-charcoal fish before looking at Hiro.

_“Not even,”_ Hiro said flatly.

Considering the fish broke in half when Obake tried pulling a piece off, he doubted anyone would eat that. it was a conclusion Obake came to as well, sighing as he tossed it back in the tame-fire for it to finish off.

“I blame you for this,” he told Hiro as he put another fish in the tame-fire.

_“That wasn’t my fault,”_ Hiro countered. _“You just totally spaced.”_

_“Maybe he doesn’t think we’re smart,”_ Boulders-on-Hill said, considering, expression half-critical. _“Maybe that’s why they eat dragons—they think we’re stupid prey, like boar or deer or fish.”_

_“That’s what I thought too, only without the dragon-eating bit,”_ he said, looking at her—well, maybe _with_ the dragon-eating bit, but he’d rather get past that. _“I kind of want to test it on another Yokai, but I’m hesitant to just…you know, run out and try it.”_

_“The little bit about how it’s just him that thinks this way, not his whole flight.”_

_“Yeah,”_ he sighed, sagging a little, staring into the fire.

Boulders-on-Hill considered him. _“You know, what you’re doing here…I thought about it a lot while I was out, and…what you’re trying here is world-changing.”_ Shift a little. _“World-changing things don’t, you know, change the world in a day.”_

_“Yeah,”_ he said, lifting his head a little. Consider it before looking at her. _“But it’s changing my world, so….”_

She waggled her head. _“Sometimes that’s all you can do.”_

Maybe—maybe that was what was important, even though he didn’t really want to stop there—if he could just—big scale, he wanted to do this on a big scale—

But on a big scale was too big a thing to tackle—it would be like him going up against Mountain-King. Maybe Boulders-on-Hill was right. Maybe he needed to focus on getting a few dragons in his corner on this _first_. That way he had a team to take on this massive thing.

Dragons like his family and friends.

Sigh, sagging again—he missed them, all of them, but most of all Older-Brother and Older-Light-Fury. He missed his family, he missed his friends—he missed being in a huge flight of dragons, even if it did revolved around that jerk Mountain-King—

An echoing noise made all of them freeze, heads jerking up and tilted to better hear—

_Dragons._

Hope squeezed Hiro’s heart painfully—bolted for the cave entrance, made several good bounds before Obake tackled him and flattened him to the ground.

_“No no let me see!”_ he protested, trying to wriggle out from under him. _“I need to see if my brother’s out there!”_

Obake didn’t budge, planted a paw on Hiro’s muzzle to quiet him—Boulders-on-Hill seemed to share his sentiment, plastered to the ground as she was—

Glanced at them, minced to the cave entrance, peering around to see—

Scrambled backwards until she was on top of the fire, laid down to extinguish it.

_“Hey!”_ Hiro barked.

_“Shush!”_ she ordered, mincing over to them and staying flat to the ground, eyeing the entrance nervously. _“That’s my old flight!”_

Her old flight—her old flight that followed a queen—

Older-Brother wouldn’t be out there.

Sag into the ground, ceasing his struggle, trying hard not to start crying right there—it hurt, it really hurt, he wanted his brother back—his real brother, not the imaginary version he kept conjuring up….

Flatten his ears against the sounds of dragons dying.

_What I’m doing is world-changing,_ he told himself, closing his eyes against their burning, cutting off another sensory input as he dug his claws into the ground. _World-changing things don’t change the world all at once._

But he wanted it to—he wanted to end this right now, stop it all before someone else got hurt—

Felt movement on his scales, rubbing back and forth—Obake, maybe trying to be reassuring but not knowing how—

Had scrambled to make sure he was okay during the last dragon raid too.

Huff, trying to keep the keening feeling in his chest from spilling out…finally managed to crack his eyes open, feeling the edges of the lids moisten even as he blinked rapidly to clear them—

Lifted an ear flap as the sounds of the raid finally faded. Look at Boulders-on-Hill—

Boulders-on-Hill was next to them, close enough to be nearly squishing them, trembling with her ears flat and her paws over her eyes, trying to block out the sounds of her old flock dying—

Hiro’s heart broke a little as he realized how much worse this was for her.

_“Boulders-on-Hill,”_ he said quietly, moving his head a little—Obake finally picked himself up, letting Hiro sit up and paw at her. _“Listen, it’s…it’s gonna be….”_ All right? Okay? _Nothing_ about this was okay. dragons had just _died_ out there, they could have done _something—_ someone has to help—

But what _could_ they do, really? One little Night Fury who had used up his shot for the day, a Gronkle tired from flying all day, and one cleverer-than-usual Yokai against two separate flights that wanted nothing more than to kill each other. They would have never been able to stop that.

And the injustice of that hurt.

Look at Obake, who was considering the scene in front of him—watch as he gingerly patted Boulders-on-Hill’s side. She started—

_“It’s okay,”_ Hiro told her. No it wasn’t, but…he had to say something. _“It’s…it’s not right, but…we can fix it. Somehow.”_

She looked at him, heartbroken, looked at Obake, sitting there like he didn’t know what to do with himself—

Startled them both when she pawed Hiro around and curled up close around him and Obake.

“No too heavy,” Obake wheezed, trying to push her off—she ignored him, sides heaving—Hiro crawled up on her back and started kneading.

_“It’s okay,”_ he tried again, dredging up every memory of Older-Light-Fury and Nadder-Mother-to-Everybody he had. _“It’s okay. The world is broken, but we can fix it.”_

Her labored breathing started to calm, Obake finally managed to worm out from under her—

She finally opened red-rimmed eyes and looked up at Hiro.

_“Whatever this is you’re doing,”_ she said thickly. _“Whatever it is that stops this…I want in.”_

Hiro nodded. _“Welcome aboard, then.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fire in the mouth trick we’ve seen in the second HTTYD movie, and yeah, I figure that for certain dragons it’s more a matter of finesse. Also operating on the perception that Furies gain more shots as they get older and have more of a capacity—so Hiro only gets one a day (for now).


	25. Nadder Knockout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 25, everybody! And now _this_ week we watched _Big Hero 6,_ so we’re _really_ good for this fic now. :D
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney
> 
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks
> 
> Lion King 2 © 1998 Disney (Vitani isn’t a lioness in this ^^)
> 
> Wreck-It Ralph © 2012 Disney
> 
> Atlantis: The Lost Empire © 2001 Disney
> 
> Monsters, Inc. © 2001 Pixar (Obake slamming the shutter down on Sparkle's hands = Roz slamming the shutter on Mike's hands)

Obake slogged awake with his head feeling fuzzy, like he hadn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep.

Why that could have been so became clear when he woke up to find himself leaning against the Gronkle’s side with Hiro curled up in his lap. Ah. Right. Apparently the dragons had opinions about hearing their fellows get downed last night. Fair enough. Work himself free, crawl over to the fire, check the teapot…sigh when he realized it was empty.

“Wrr?” Hiro noised, yawning, teeth bared.

“I’m debating,” he muttered, staring at the little bit of light that managed to shine in around the blanket. Hiro made a pensive noise, padded over and sat down, rested his head on Obake’s knee. Obake scratched between Hiro’s ears, still lost in thought…did finally look down when he felt that moroseness radiating off the little dragon.

“They won’t be killing those dragons right away,” he told Hiro. “With Callaghan gone and the Yokai bored, they’ll have been captured alive.” To then be killed for sport, but hopefully it meant they’d leave him alone.

Hiro lifted his head, looked at him, ears twitching. “Hrr?”

“That does not mean I will be rescuing them,” he said sternly. “A couple of dragons go missing? That’s questionable. A bunch of dragons fresh from a raid go missing? Unless I lift the keys from Yama and plant them on someone else, that’ll be _my_ head on the chopping block. Don’t even—Yama keeps those keys on his person at all times.”

Hiro huffed, sulking now. Fair enough—he was trying to keep his own spirits up. All those potential test subjects, whose only destiny now was to die for sport. Depressing, yes. Wasteful, definitely. Worth getting himself killed over? No thank you.

It wasn’t like those dragons would all be killed at once—they’d be picked off, one by one, stretching the entertainment until the next raid, killed and dragged out of the ring and—

Wait.

Snap his fingers above Hiro’s head, prompting him to look up—

Freeze when Obake put a finger lightly to the pressure spot under his jaw.

“Do all dragons have this?” he asked.

Hiro’s ear flaps moved, evidently debating—

Took a step back and barked at the Gronkle, startling it awake. Huffed and hawed—looked at Obake expectantly.

“So now we get to test,” he observed, getting up. “Yay for me.”

Gronkles _did_ have a pressure point and _did_ stay out for about the same amount of time as Hiro did.

Now here was hoping he’d survive this.

“For the record,” he told Hiro after insisting on _stay._ “If I die doing this you stay grounded for life.”

Hiro huffed at that, watched him with concern for as long as he was able.

It did nothing for his nerves, nor did sneaking back into the village. Dodge here and there, avoiding as many people as he could, slip into his forge—the whole kill ring bruhaha wouldn’t start until close to lunchtime, to give the Yokai the chance to roust everyone and get them there, which gave him some time to do something productive.

He had a couple of fresh racks of nails done when who he expected finally came crashing down on him.

“So _there_ you are!” the idiot whose name he refused to think jeered, leaning on the counter. “Nobody’s seen you for _ages_ —thought you were a ghost.”

Obake gave him a moment to laugh at his own stupidity. “Yes, here I am, where any simpleton could find me. Key example being _you.”_

“I wouldn’t be like that if I were you,” the idiot said, wagging a finger at him. “You’re low man on the totem pole, the last in the runnings— _Felix_ is actually ahead of you! Do you know how bad you have to be to have _Felix_ score over you?”

Obake looked him over, noting how he was leaning forward. “Hold that pose for me, will you?”

Slammed the shutter down on his hands—hard.

No, the goons stomping in a few moments later and hauling him out wasn’t a surprise, he was expecting it and had his forge closed down by the time they stormed in after him. Yes, slamming that idiot’s hands was worth it.

Plus, this kept his general opinion of this ridiculousness well-known.

Calhoun was apoplectic when he was thrown in.

“Wow,” Audrey noised. “Didn’t think you’d actually _find_ him.”

“Find him—you _idiots,”_ she said, grabbing the two goons by the collars and hauling them in. “You and you— _out_ ,” she ordered, pointing at him and Felix. “We are not risking the _contractor_ and the _blacksmith.”_

“Oh yes we are!” the pink-haired idiot said, leaning in. “Gotta give them a chance to get a little higher in the ratings—you two can stay in there though, you’re getting too soft.”

Calhoun grumbled something unintelligible, turned to face them, considering…settled on Obake finally as he righted himself and brushed the dust off.

“If you happen to set Sparkles on fire, I wouldn’t object,” she declared. “Now come on, let’s see some hustle out there! These dragons are fresh and looking for a fight!”

Doubtful—and while he was at it, he doubted that anyone here _would_ be able to offer a fight. Audrey was better at fixing weaponry, Obake was useless in a straight fight, those two goons were probably used to sneaking up and punching their prey, and Felix was about as pacifistic as you could get. He was willing to bet good money the man would hide as soon as he was able.

No, the only ones here who _might_ offer a good fight was Vitani and…Momakase.

“We should really stop meeting like this,” she said, acknowledging the irony.

“So what did _you_ do?” he asked—went down winded at a sock to the stomach.

“You _knew_ Mole was sleeping there,” she accused.

“Your point?” he demanded, staggering back upright.

“She was out of commission for a few days and knocked to the bottom of the ranks,” Vitani volunteered, fiddling with an earring. “There’s a whole leaderboard set up now.”

Oi vey.

Finally got his wind back as they went out into the kill ring, already set up with debris everywhere—probably just haphazardly thrown in after the dragon raid. Brace himself, hoping for a Gronkle—

Felt his stomach behave as though it was punched again when a Deadly Nadder barged out of the other gate.

Shoved to the side as the two goons charged forward, already swinging—Felix took the prescribed opportunity and dove for cover, scurrying under some handy debris—

“ _Come on, Felix!”_ Ralph yelled worriedly, glancing up—Obake followed his line of sight—ah, the leaderboard Vitani had been talking about.

“Ah-ah-ah, if you stay in last place you get _punished!”_ the pink-haired idiot sang, dancing around and swinging that stupid knobbly club again. “Isn’t that right, boyo?”

“I’m _not_ your boyo!” Yama snapped, currently sitting in Callaghan’s throne—something he wouldn’t dare do if the man were here.

“ _Obake! Focus!”_

Calhoun’s bark sent him diving, narrowly avoiding the spray of spines—one of the goons wasn’t so lucky, got one deep in under his collarbone, the other one getting stomped by the Nadder before it charged again, spraying fire everywhere—Obake flattened himself in the shadows of the debris, hoping its rampage would get it close enough—

Figured when it nearly stepped on him as it rounded on Vitani was as good as he was going to get.

Leap up, use his upward momentum, aim for the spot that best resembled the spot on Hiro and the Gronkle—if this failed he was a dead man—

Punched it hard enough to send pain dancing down his nerves all the way to his shoulder—

And then had to dodge when the Nadder went down _hard,_ scrambling away as it collapsed.

Dead silence reigned in the ring.

_“What_ just happened?” someone demanded finally.

Obake stood, acting wary—kicked the Nadder in the haunch, assured it’d be out of it.

“Congratulations,” he declared, giving a deadpan look to Yama. “You captured an old Nadder that had a heart event and _died_. Very commendable.”

Yama went a very interesting shade of red at that.

“That dragon’s not dead!” someone yelled.

Obake grabbed a couple of spines and shook the head around after realizing lifting it wouldn’t work. “It seems dead to _me.”_

Vitani came over, curious—kicked the dragon hard in the face before scurrying back—

The Nadder, still unconscious, didn’t move.

“I think Obake’s right,” she said, voice pitched to carry. “This Nadder’s totally dead!”

“This guy definitely is,” Momakase said, pointing at the goon that had gotten stepped on. “And that other guy’s out of it too.” Smirked venomously at the guy rolling on the ground. “Guess that means _you’re_ in last place.”

“Whatever,” Obake said, already turning to the gates being levered open—Ralph barreled over to where Felix was still hiding, Jian heading for the guy on the ground. “Just get rid of this thing before it starts to smell.” Head for the gate, giving Ralph a wide berth as he dug—

“Hey Felix!” he said happily, tugging the little construction man out. “You made it! You’re not in last place!”

“Uh, h-how?” Felix asked.

“Now wait a minute!” Yama bellowed, leaping to his feet. “I want confirmation that dragon’s dead!”

Obake stopped to glare at him—was beaten to the deadpan snarking by Vitani, who pointed at the dragon while giving Yama what could only be a _you really are THAT stupid_ look.

“It. Is. _DEAD,”_ she said flatly. “Face it, _SOMEBODY_ nabbed a dud.”

Which drummed up a whole argument as everyone disavowed that capture. Obake snorted, left as Calhoun hustled some people in to drag the dragon out _before rigor mortis sets in have you ever TRIED to move a stiff that size?_ Maneuvered around the village, quickly gathering essentials and more for some extra traps around the village, slipped away and dodged over some of his old traps to see about being followed. Nope. Made a few more, circle around to make sure he wasn’t followed, tug out his spyglass—didn’t see anyone, all the activity was still near the kill ring…ah, there was Calhoun’s little group, tugging the Nadder to the carving station for later skinning and deboning.

Not that it would stick around for that.

Stifle an ugly laugh, make his way back to the cave, slip in—

Flinch back at a growl before Hiro’s little bark quieted the Gronkle.

“I come bearing gifts,” he announced, depositing the bag. “And good news. We should be hearing some _fascinating_ sounds in three, two, one….”

Couldn’t help but go back to the cave entrance as he heard the Nadder bellowing, saw it powering away as fast as its wings could take it, hastily-fired arrows falling short of it as it took off like there was no tomorrow. Gave into that little ugly laugh then.

“Ah,” he sighed, sagging to the ground as Hiro bounded around, acting and sounding like he was cheering deliriously. “Unfortunately, that trick will only work once—sad to say, we’re going to need something a bit more workable if any of those others are to go free.” Pity he couldn’t lure it back here for further study…but Nadders were notoriously vain and aggressive, same as Nightmares. It wouldn’t be worth it.

Hiro finally sagged to his stomach next to Obake, sighing, the Gronkle ceasing its happy rolling wiggle before righting itself and looking at them expectantly.

“I don’t really have any other plans right now except turn that one cave into something we can use,” he told them. “After lunch.”

Both dragons were open to that concept.

Hiro was licking his paws after their meal, focusing on getting them clean—

Noticed Boulders-on-Hill was being strangely quiet.

_“Are you okay?”_ he asked her.

_“That Nadder was from my flight,”_ she said. _“My old flight. I…I think I should try catching up with it, convince it to stay.”_

Hiro blinked at her. _“But…can you even outfly a Nadder? You can’t go after it right now, and you don’t want to catch it and be back in range of your old queen.”_

She shook her head. _“It was going in the wrong direction for that. I think if it’s smart it won’t go back…or at the very least it’ll hunt for something to bring back to the nest first.”_

_“That’s an awful lot of hunting on your end.”_

_“I’ll be fine,”_ she snorted. _“I’ve been eating properly for a while now—I’m much healthier than that Nadder right now, trust me. And….”_ She stopped, looked at Obake, paused in his scribbling to gnaw on the end of his scribble-stick as he scowled at his dry-leaves. _“And we’re going to need more dragons if this is going to work.”_

Hiro looked at Obake, considering, ear flaps twitching. He wanted this smoothed and groomed before he went and included more dragons….

But she was right. Word would need to get out to other dragons, that fighting wasn’t the answer, that they could break free of their awful alphas…that the Yokai, the most vicious of dragon predators, weren’t as terrible as they seemed.

Except….

Except that kill ring said otherwise. That screaming today said otherwise. Last night said otherwise. They needed more than just Obake to say this conclusively.

But to try that, to proceed safely…they needed the firepower.

_“That’s not a Gronkle that was stuck in a trap for ages, though,”_ he said, looking back at her. _“That was a fresh-caught Nadder.”_

She nodded, got up. _“It’s why I’m leaving now.”_

Hiro was on his feet in a flash. _“WHAT? No—not right now it’s the middle of the day!”_

_“I’ll go out back and go around wide—they’re hunting for a Nadder, they’ll be looking for a Nadder, I’ll fly high and far enough they don’t catch me.”_

Hiro scrambled for a reason to convince her otherwise, couldn’t hit on one…this was dangerous, he didn’t like this….

Didn’t want to lose the company of a dragon he was starting to count as a friend.

Boulders-on-Hill nudged him. _“Hey, I’ll be fine. You’re the one hanging around the big scary Yokai.”_

He huffed, trying to keep his face neutral. _“I heard that sarcasm.”_

_“Good,”_ she chuffed. _“I’ll be back.”_

“And where are _you_ going?” Obake asked as she left. Hiro watched her go, hoping she’d be all right. She’d have to be all right. he had to believe that the dragons he cared about would be okay.

_She’s right,_ he thought. _And it makes me wonder how you’d take this, Older-Brother. I know you’d think this was crazy, but…if I can convince you, maybe I can convince anybody._ Look at Obake. One singular maybe-Yokai, out of a whole flight of them. _But I can’t say anything for certain until we figure out if it’s more than just Obake._

_We need more Yokai._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not update next week, since that’s Thanksgiving—under usual circumstances I’d say no because I’d be busy watching the parade and helping to make dinner, but it’s questionable if we’ll even _have_ the Macy’s parade this year (thank you, 2020), and we _might_ be having more family over (don’t tell that one mayor). So we’ll see.


	26. Eeling Out Of Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 26, everybody, and happy Thanksgiving! Figured I might as well so I could have updates every day this month (except Sundays, but those are my day off). :D
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney
> 
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks
> 
> Wreck-It Ralph © 2012 Disney
> 
> Atlantis: The Lost Empire © 2001 Disney

The next day Obake risked going into the village after he was certain they were busy at the kill ring, collected a bag of fish and some more supplies for the cave he was planning to renovate, circumnavigated his traps before heading up to the cave and slipping in.

Hiro was sitting there waiting, looked around eagerly before settling on him.

“We’re going to have to discuss you sitting right there to wait for me,” Obake told him. “And no, no new dragons today.”

Hiro sagged, huffed—looked at the one bag with interest.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me,” Obake said, emptying the bag onto the floor. “This one is mine, the rest are yours. Go nuts.”

Hiro cheered, started nosing about in the fish—

Reeled back screeching in alarm, looking absolutely terrified.

“What? What?” he demanded, looking around for the source of Hiro’s terror—finally settled on the pack of fish as the only possible source. “What? It’s fish—you _like_ fish—ah.” This was new—pull an eel out of the pile, to a fresh wave of draconian horror. “Are you serious? Eels are good eating.” Either that or it had been too long for him to be concerned about being picky. Shrug, move to throw it on the fire—

Hiro screeched, charged—rammed into him, causing him to go sprawling and the eel to go flying—Hiro pounced—

Blasted the eel into oblivion.

“Seriously?” Obake demanded when his ears stopped ringing. “All that fuss over an _eel?”_

Hiro was too busy celebrating his vanquishing of an obviously terrible beast to care.

“You are a _ridiculous_ dragon,” Obake huffed, dusting himself off—considered before writing that into his notebook. Dragons didn’t like eels, did they?

He could use that.

Letting himself get caught again had the added bonus of him being able to get more supplies together—he was heavily debating the merits of just disappearing into the caverns once he got enough set up and never dealing with the village proper again until Hiro was grown, was pretty sure the main obstacle there was someone coming to look for him. Made sure to have a dour look as he was thrown into the ring again.

“Wow,” Ralph noised, edging Felix away from him. “You uh…fancy seeing you here. A second time.”

Despite being Carl’s size, Ralph actually was considerate enough to shy away when Obake glared at him. Get up, ignoring the jeers, his current colleagues, Calhoun loudly yelling _WHAT have I TOLD YOU about risking essential workers you do NOT just throw the contractor and the blacksmith to DRAGONS—_

A Hideous Zippleback came storming out, already blasting out its noxious gas—everyone backtracked, dove for some form of cover, not wanting to be _too_ exposed if it decided to spark and set the gas on fire—well except for Vinnie, apparently, who finally seemed to notice that at least two people were glaring at him.

“Maybe I finish this later, huh?” he asked, indicating the explosive he was working on.

“If you can bring yourself to,” Obake said, voice heavy with sarcasm.

“Eh, would have worked if it was a different dragon,” Vinnie said, shrugging—the fifth poor sap ignored them, started trying to sneak closer to where the dragon _used_ to be—idiot, a dragon with any sense would use this as a blind—need a plan, need…ah.

Slip over to the gate, trip the lever that opened it from inside, whistle for Calhoun’s attention—

She looked like she was debating heavily before finally throwing a rock at Ralph’s back, causing him to yelp in alarm and fall as he tried to twist around—shake her head, indicate that they head her way.

Obake was already slinking the other way, considering. If he were a dragon—and it seemed sensible enough to assign them at least _some_ level of intelligence—if he were a dragon surrounded by hostiles, he’d be using this gas as cover as he tried to find a way out. It would have heard the gate, maybe, so—

The shape in the gas suddenly resolved itself when the Zippleback’s right head bumped against his chest, causing both of them to flinch back.

“Ah,” he noised, as both heads focused on him, one grinning as it worked its jaw, the hint of a spark starting—

The one goon found it too, charged its side screaming, causing both heads to whip up and around—

Best time to enact his plan.

The one head squawked in startlement at the bola wrapping around it, too light to do any damage but light enough to easily throw—the other head whipped around—

Screamed in alarm when it realized what was _tied_ to the bola.

Obake flattened himself against the wall as the Zippleback rampaged in its panic—frantically started edging around the ring again as it crashed everywhere, found the gate as the Zippleback continued thrashing—

And somehow managed to blunder _through_ the gate, knocking the outer portion off its hinges as it screamed through the village, collecting several pursuant Yokai as it got airborne.

Immediate threat gone, Obake looked the gate over—the hinge pins would have to be refired—noticed Vinnie plastered against the wall.

Vinnie noticed him too. “I was thinking I let him go first, yeah?”

“It seems the more prudent approach,” Obake agreed drily.

Also prudent: making himself scarce once again.

Hiro was smart enough to be dozing off to the side of the cavern when Obake returned, perked up upon seeing him slip in after checking once again that he hadn’t been followed.

“I bring good news,” he announced. “A Zippleback made a successful break for it. Unfortunately, this is again an example of a trick that will only work once, and with certain dragons.”

Hiro stopped bouncing to make a disapproving _wuff_ noise at Obake—probably scolding him for dampening his glee. Looked at the fresh bags of supplies he had set down next to the others.

“Well,” he explained, mentally tallying what he had now up here. “I think we have enough to start work on that cavern, don’t you? Interested in a fancified den?”

Even if he wasn’t, Hiro was obviously intrigued by the various tools Obake used while building the cavern up—using the backs of the stalagmites to give a further blind to their work, using drills and levels and various other means to drive in small posts that could then support shelves that he tapped together with pilfered nails—if anyone commented on the loss he’d blame the lack of renewable resources.

Regrettably, that was a persisting problem.

It was difficult to tell how much time had passed without consulting the sky at the end of the tunnel, but eventually hunger and sore muscles drove him to break for a meal. Hiro would have enough fish for a few days, and Obake had managed to gather some supplemental food for himself. And tea, most importantly, although judging by the stores he’d have to make the next several pots weak and watery.

“We’ll need a water source in here as well,” Obake mused. “To avoid exposure on the mountain. And a more reliable light source…pity we don’t really have options.”

“Mrr,” Hiro noised, dozing.

That was a fair point, and at the very least, he had been smart enough to pick up a small lamp this time—have it ready, stretch his back, lay down for a minute, he told himself.

Had to reevaluate that estimation when Hiro woke up enough to crawl over and lay on him. Fine, fine, he’d wait until the dragon was more deeply asleep and then go from there.

Didn’t remember falling asleep himself.

Momakase’s plan for the day was to track down where Obake had been hiding.

It seemed an interesting enough pursuit, got her away from the village and let her skip on the whole lucky lottery thing—pick on someone else for a while. Went to the forge, then his main house (the fool kept sticking to one house, idiot)—both fireplaces were stone cold, meaning he was elsewhere.

The question was just _where._

She was going to rule the village out for now by dint of wanting to avoid it herself—no need to be grabbed and thrown in the kill ring. Wander into the woods, mindful of traps—

Felt she was on the right track when she stumbled upon the first one.

Careful examination of the area showed it had been well-trafficked, had more traps lurking—slowly and cautiously circle around, keeping an eye out for more traps or anything that looked even _remotely_ suspicious—if there was one thing Obake was good at, it was building a better mousetrap.

Another thing: he probably wasn’t too concerned with killing someone out here.

Found the remains of a campfire and camp, but they were cold too—too close to the village anyway.

Consider—where would Obake try to hide from people? The mountains were treacherous, but they might have caves….

Brushed that one off when she reached the first major pinch point and encountered no traps. If he _were_ hiding up here, he would have definitely made sure to rig this spot up at _least_.

No…no, he was hiding elsewhere.

Retreat back down the path, gingerly poking along with a long stick, lost the stick to a trap—ah, much better.

This trail didn’t lead her anywhere promising either though, and by then she was having to retreat to avoid getting tripped up in the dark. The important thing was, she avoided the kill ring.

The next several days also yielded no results, despite her following many traps to many dead ends.

_Okay,_ she thought, considering the carefully-concealed pit trap before her—someone who wasn’t looking for it would miss it totally. _She_ nearly missed it, and she had been _looking_ for such a thing. _Let’s think. Obake is avoiding Yama and Sparkles. Makes sense. But where? It needs to be close enough that he can filch supplies, far enough away to evade detection…all the traps are centered on the southeast corners of the island, near where the docks are…._

_Is he trying to make a break for it?_

She had to dismiss that one as soon as she thought it—Obake was about useless when it came to boats.

She also didn’t think the area was a good one for hiding after evaluating it. Yes, it was protected from the fiercer northern winds, but it was still victim to southern storms, and most of the caves would either flood or were too chancy to try to access. No, he was hiding somewhere else.

_Or is that what he wants you to believe?_

It made sense, he was like that, would have you looking one place and then do something else entirely while your back was turned. It was the sort of thing that made him very, _very_ dangerous on raids, in any situation where he had more than five minutes to enact a plan and put it in motion.

Huff at that—he was smart, she had seen that for herself. Fast as a whip, would often have a plan while people were still absorbing the information, would already be putting something together before people even realized he had already figured something out. After the first year or so, she had learned to watch _him_ over what anyone else was doing, much to the aggravation of several others.

But, she reflected, scanning the first cave she was able to examine—she much preferred leaping into action, preferred it when she could also leap back out. Trying to see all the angles could leave a person paralyzed—she often settled for several angles and then diving into it, trusting her own wit and reflexes and swordsmanship to get her out.

Obake was the only person she had ever met who could see all the angles that quickly, and then know what to do with them beyond being frozen in indecision. Their ruler Callaghan might be, but she knew he relied on Obake’s cunning just as much as the rest of them did.

It was a wonder Obake wasn’t _running_ the tribe, or at least was second in command.

She scowled at that as she examined the next cave, dismissed it for being too small. It wasn’t for lack of ambition—the man had done his level best to overcome any obstacle and rise above everyone else, had started butting heads with Callaghan because of it. Would probably chafe at being second, she reflected—someone like that didn’t settle until he was on top.

She paused, halfway to the next cave. By that logic….

By that logic Obake would be looking to rid himself of Callaghan.

She shook her head and continued looking, dismissing that thought as well. He might _want_ the position, but he wouldn’t want the responsibilities that came with it. Obake was _not_ a people-person, full stop. Yes, he’d team up with her on schemes, but that was because she had inserted herself into them—after seeing that his plots worked out nine times out of ten, she’d go up to him while the others were still working things out, and if Callaghan hadn’t bothered with him yet she’d ask him what the plan was. Unlike the others, she’d go along with whatever he cooked up because she could trust _herself_ to get back out if something went wrong.

She had learned long ago that self-reliance was her greatest asset.

Huff at that, look over the myriad cave entrances still left to go…Obake wasn’t this way. Even though she had seen plenty of traps leading down this path, something this narrow should have _something_ , something small he could easily dodge but that would trip up anyone hunting him. Look back, look forward…no. Obake was definitely not hiding this way.

But where then? And for what purpose?

Grouse under her breath, kick a pebble off the thin path and watch it bounce away down to the thinner beach below, exposed as it was by the ebbing tide. Boredom, that’s what this was—boredom and frustration at having been left behind while their chief took a bunch of _other_ Yokai with him to raid. Probably a punishment, he had noticed her leaning more on Obake’s counsel than his own.

Huff—that wasn’t _her_ fault. She would rather get in, hit fast and hard, and get out, absconding with whatever she had been targeting or accomplishing whatever she had decided to do. She had better things to do than dither about deciding on the whats and wherefores. The Yokai were a fearsome band of marauders, and yes, Callaghan had cemented that with his ruthlessness.

What really sold it was how they’d strike right where it hurt, and she knew _that_ one could be attributed to Obake.

Look up at the sun, noting its location—the daily kill ring entertainment should be starting shortly. If she turned around now, she’d be back roughly in the middle of it, would have the run of the village.

Smiled at that, headed back with quick measured strides that took her around the traps she had marked on the way out, light and swift and moving with purpose. That stupid Sparkle had been insisting everyone be at the kill ring and _everyone_ be subject to that ‘lucky lottery,’ something Yama was stupid enough to go along with.

Which meant the food stores would be unattended.

Which meant—if she hurried—she could find herself a nice abandoned cottage and make herself a _proper_ meal for once. Very grand, would calm her down and let her organize her thoughts.

Maybe then she’d be able to figure out just _what_ Obake was really up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was actually written after the upcoming chapters—spent a lot of time writing this month and running through everything to make sure it all works nicely. Good news, we’re good for the rest of the year, although we won’t be updating Christmas Eve, I don’t think. Maybe New Year’s Eve, I don’t know. *shrug*


	27. Fishing for Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 27, everybody! In which Obake conducts some experiments…that weren’t written in the order they appear in the chapter so if they seem kind of choppy, that’s why. ^^;
> 
> Also in this chapter is where we start getting another side plot going….
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney
> 
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks
> 
> Atlantis: The Lost Empire © 2001 Disney

The incident with the eel was enough to make Obake run a series of tests afterwards. Yes, parts of eel worked, as did the eel pattern.

Now that latter bit was something he regretted not knowing back in the day—no one could have _possibly_ come up with anything foul to make of a simple repeating pattern that got fished up on a routine basis. Give that one some thought….

_The ghost did some sort of frightful marks to scare the beasts off!_

Yeah that was probably how it would have gone.

But it _did_ give him something to fiddle with, though.

Hence why he snuck back to the village once he heard everyone in the kill ring, liberated paint and fabric, made several long strips done up in the eel pattern. Now, where to put these….

He had to wait until the next round in the kill ring to act on his new ploy, which had given him ample time to figure out the where and why and how. Hiro was no help, Hiro refused to have anything to do with this, which meant he had to liberate a ladder to place straps of fabric on the roofs of several houses.

He had debated, decided against putting them on his own house or the forge—Hiro’s volatile reaction made him think that he’d end up with destroyed buildings over anything else. If he was wrong, the buildings would be fine.

If he was _right,_ then he’d get to cackle as the dragons destroyed several of the pink-haired idiot’s preferred locales.

It was something that took several days—maneuvering the ladder wasn’t exactly a quick job—but by the time the next dragon raid was due, he had enough to make a difference, he thought.

“If this works, I am going to be _very_ cross with you,” he told Hiro, to the Night Fury’s confusion. “Yes, I’m aware that being mad at _you_ makes no sense—it’ll just be very frustrating to learn that all it took to keep you lot away all these years was a few coats of paint.”

Hiro shuffled on his haunches, apparently bemused at his opinion—

Perked up at the first angry bellows.

Obake hooked a hand in the harness, ready to grab him and retreat back into the cave—yes, there was a chance this was the _other_ flight, the one that _didn’t_ have the big angry Night Fury bent on killing him in it.

But if there was even a _slight_ chance of that, he was taking off.

To his amusement, though, the dragons’ war bellows shifted to terrified shrieks as they spotted the eel banners, swerved away, several of them just taking off. Well, this was working out nicely—

And then a Nightmare dove, screaming the draconian equivalent of a kamikaze dying shriek—flamed one of the eel banners and most of the roof it was on for good measure.

“Ah,” he noised, vaguely disappointed as the Nightmare gained altitude, other smaller dragons mobbing it and apparently very impressed. “Well, I had a feeling that would happen. Glad I didn’t do _my_ place,” he told Hiro, trying to keep his amusement tamped down.

Hiro gave him a look he couldn’t quite decipher, but which he felt probably meant _you’re being weird again, stop it._ Fair enough.

After the first Nightmare managed part of a second one, another brazen one dove, flaming another eel banner with a bit more nerve. The other dragons were still keeping their distance, but it wouldn’t be long before their reason for doing so was gone.

Obake sighed, hauled Hiro back into the cave and into their far cavern before the crossbolts started flying.

“Well that went about how I expected it to,” he said, causing Hiro to make a confused noise. “I make a plan to keep dragons away from the village, plan fails miserably, wash, rinse, repeat. On the positive side, that pink-haired idiot is the one paying for it this round.” He wondered how he could let Calhoun in on the fact that he had actually done what she wanted and set that nut on fire.

“Wrr,” Hiro sighed, following him into the cave.

“What?” he asked, lighting the fire pit. “It’s not _my_ fault those dragons didn’t take a perfectly good hint and shove off. Matter of fact, we’ve _still_ not addressed the fact that those dragons have no reason to attack here. The only people who persist in such activity that has proven disastrous are idiots and scientists.” And depending on who you asked, there wasn’t much distinction between the two.

Hiro huffed, glared away at nothing.

“Why do the dragons keep coming back?” he asked evenly. “We’ve made it perfectly clear this island is unwelcome—so _why.”_

Hiro huffed again, shook his head, considered him before padding to the sand and scratching out something in it. Not runes, it was too big. Finish up with a small dot, point at the dot before patting himself.

“I hope that’s not to scale, firstly,” Obake said drily. “Secondly…what is _this?”_ Point at the larger thing, which almost looked like something with a huge gaping mouth resplendent with teeth and tusks.

_“Hrrf,”_ Hiro noised, somewhere between a huff and a growl as he glared in the direction of the cave entrance. Seemed torn on how to describe it, finally settled on stomping on it with vigor, splashing sand everywhere.

“I take it whatever it is, it’s not something you care for,” he observed. Consider it, sketch it in his notebook…whatever it was, it was something dragons considered detestable, something that possibly hunted dragons….

But what could possibly be big and dangerous enough to threaten a _dragon?_ Humans got lucky, had to be clever and hit where it hurt…what else was there that could threaten something with so many natural defenses?

And was it something that could be harnessed?

Boulders-on-Hill finally found the Nadder on a little island after several nights of hunting.

_“There you are!”_ she hollered, diving down. _“I’ve been looking all over for you!”_

The Nadder flashed his spines, not quite calming himself down from his defensive stance. _“You were?”_

_“Yeah,”_ she said, shaking herself a little upon landing. _“I was hoping to catch you before you got back to the queen.”_

He blinked, cocked his head to better look at her. _“You…you’re from my flight?”_

_“I used to be!”_ she declared proudly, puffing up a little. _“But I got some freedom knocked into me! Much better life without a queen bellowing in your head all day!”_

He flattened his spines, like that concept terrified him. _“I don’t know….”_

_“Trust me, it’s a lot better. Look, flesh on me now—Gronkles are NOT supposed to have ribs showing, ever.”_

_“W-well….”_

She narrowed her eyes at him. _“You think it too,”_ she accused. _“If you didn’t you would already be back there. So why aren’t you?”_

He scratched at the ground. _“I…was hunting,”_ he said finally. _“So she wouldn’t eat me when I came back.”_

_“Liar—there’s plenty of fish in the sea.”_

_“Nngh—I DON’T WANT TO, OKAY!?”_ he snapped finally. _“I don’t want to go back to the queen—is that so wrong?”_

_“No,”_ she said simply. _“I mean, I sure haven’t.”_

He looked at her, looked away. _“But I can’t be out here by myself—it’s not good for a dragon to be alone, anything could happen.”_

_“Well good news, you can come with me! That way you won’t be alone.”_

Okay, _that_ look was a little insulting. _“Uh, no offense, but I’m a Nadder, you’re a Gronkle….”_

_“We’re from the same flight, I could knock you down with ease right now,”_ she continued, giving him a deadpan look. _“Listen—humor me—staying around here is weirdly safer than going back to the nest.”_

Now it was his turn for the deadpan look. _“Uh, I just escaped from the deadly Yokai-nest—where have you been?”_

_“The deadly Yokai-nest,”_ she replied simply. _“Turns out they never check the caves in their mountain.”_

Okay, _that_ expression was worth it. _“Are you NUTS!? You’re actually living on the same island as them did a centipede get in your ear and eat your brain WHY!?”_

_“Firstly, the queen can’t get me here,”_ she said. _“Secondly, I’m part of a very important experiment that’ll change the world.”_ It was a nicely impressive declaration, and it really shouldn’t have gotten a snort in response. _“I’m working with a Night Fury, Hiro—he’s actually tamed a Yokai.”_

Mirth was replaced with shock. _“What—how—why—”_

_“I don’t know,”_ she told him. _“But…whatever he’s done, it works—the Yokai’s tame. And….”_ Had to pace now, this was the part that was still snarly in her head and made her nervous whenever she tried to approach that tangle. _“It’s—it’s weird, okay? It’s like—they’re intelligent, like us. They think and plan and they share fish with tame fire and—”_ Stop, staring at her paws. _“I don’t know—I feel like I’m describing it wrong, but….”_ Look back at him. _“Maybe it’s just this one, but…I almost feel like we’re wrong about them.”_ Look away, to the north, where she knew her old queen still hungered, always hungered. _“Maybe they’re bossed around by a bad alpha, same as us. Maybe this one is just special. I don’t know. I feel like I should know—I feel like—like the water’s all muddy, and there’s fish-shapes in there, but I can’t see them well enough to try for them. But I feel like I should try.”_ She looked back at him. _“This Yokai saved other dragons, let a bunch of Terrors and a Gronkle out, helped you escape—I feel like there’s something there.”_

The Nadder shifted his weight uneasily, ruffling his wings and spines…finally shook his head.

_“You want me to go back with you, don’t you?”_ he asked. _“But I can’t—I can’t go back there. I’m flying and I’m not coming back.”_

_“At least don’t go back to the queen,”_ she told him, prompting a snort.

_“No danger of that,”_ he said, turning into the breeze and lifting up—glanced at her. _“Good luck with your crazy plans—you’re totally going to need it.”_

_“If you change your mind, you know where I’ll be!”_ she hollered after him. _“There’s a cave entrance on the north face of the island! It’ll smell like me!”_

Gone.

Sigh. _“I’m sorry, Hiro—I tried.”_ Sit down, paw at the moss clinging stubbornly to the sea stack she was on. _“Can’t say this surprised me, though.”_ Look up at the sky, at the stars spangling it thickly, each one a dragon that had gone on before. Maybe it was just her, but it always seemed thicker above places where many dragons had died.

_“I could use some help,”_ she said, ears flicking back and forth as she scanned the stars. _“I…this feels like the right thing to do—if we can end the war between dragons and Yokai…but what if doing so kills them all? What if we’re wrong? What if….”_ So many questions. _“It feels like something I should get behind, but…I don’t know. Doing the right thing shouldn’t be this hard.”_

Lower her head, stare at the horizon, strangely dark in the light of the waning moon. Obeying her old queen had been easy, despite the danger. Just mindlessly obey, raid, feed, tremble in fear. Now, she was free, with all the dangers that opened up for her…and now with a strange dilemma before her. Deep breath—

Stand, launch herself into the air, angle back to the Yokai-nest. It’d take a day or so, but she’d get there.

Helping to change the world was hard, but it was something she felt she needed to do.

Hiro had been down ever since the Gronkle left.

Obake had noticed, Obake had done his level best to keep Hiro focused on something else so he wouldn’t snap at him or try to run off like he had the last time a bunch of dragons had left. Work on a few more runes, mince around the island for supplies, check his wing routinely to make sure it was healing straight. He thought he might be succeeding, mostly, except he’d still catch Hiro scanning the skies and sighing.

“Broken bones take time to heal,” Obake said on the fourth day the Gronkle had been gone. “You need to be patient.”

Hiro gave him a narrow-eyed look, went to the sand, and wrote the rune for _no_.

“In retrospect, I regret teaching you that word,” he said. The idea had been that teaching him clarifying words and words he could answer questions with would help bridge the gap. _Yes_ and _no_ had been redundant, since he understood nodding and the like, but Hiro seemed to enjoy the extra stimulation.

Of course, Hiro also seemed to like to use those to be petty, like now.

“Getting aggravated won’t make this go any faster,” he said, trying to keep his own testiness out of his voice. There was still the issue of getting the trapped dragons free, which seemed important to Hiro…except he had no plan that wouldn’t be a repeat of the Nadder or wouldn’t end up with him being dead.

And he knew that with each passing day, he was losing the Night Fury bit by bit.

Swallow an aggravated growl, went over what he knew from observing two (maybe three or four counting the Nadder and the Terrors as a collective whole) dragons. If you didn’t attack them (and had a Night Fury) they’d back down. If you hit them in a certain spot, they’d be knocked out. They ate fish (never eel), had no reason to attack the village.

So why did they?

He kept circling around to that question, hated to because he still didn’t have anything approaching an answer. Maybe a mob mentality? When they were in greater numbers they were dangerous, but when in singular encounters…except no. The Terrors were objectively the most dangerous in numbers, and yet that little gaggle of them had been…perfectly reasonable….

“What am I missing?” he asked Hiro. “I’m missing something as to your change in behavior and I don’t know what it could be.”

Hiro blinked at him, ear flaps flicking like he wasn’t sure how to address that—squiggled out a scribble in the sand that was somewhere in the neighborhood of _what_ or _how_. Question words were still a bit of a gray area as far as getting the comprehension across.

“Dragons have attacked this island for as long as I can remember,” he said, gesturing a little to indicate their surroundings. “And yet here you are, and there that Gronkle was, and those Terrors, and that wasn’t their angle. What is it that I’m missing?”

Hiro looked pensive, tapped his paw against his mouth in what a startled Obake realized was an imitation of his own behavior—

Stopped, head jerking up and ear flaps fanning, looking at the tunnel entrance—yipped—

A chuff answered him.

“Ah,” Obake noised, surprised as he registered the Gronkle padding in. “Look who’s back.”

Hiro bounded over to the Gronkle, yipping excitedly.

“Well, glad you could join us,” Obake observed drily, watching the Gronkle roll around and let Hiro bounce off of it. “Enjoy your little trip?”

The Gronkle rolled upright—noticed the differences in the cave.

“Yes, well, while you were gone we’ve been renovating,” he said, gesturing a little. Right now it was limited to half-shelves made behind and using stalagmites, but he felt that was progress. Crouch down near the Gronkle, considering it. “But where have _you_ been? And why come back?”

The Gronkle huffed at him, rolled to its side and looked like it was winding up for a long nap. A little offensive, since it basically said it didn’t view him as a threat—

Was that a bad thing? This dragon he barely interacted with, that he hadn’t done extensive training with as he had done with Hiro, was more than willing to treat him with trust thanks to him not trying to kill it.

“Why?” he demanded abruptly. “Why would you go from attacking us to just— _this.”_ Gesture to all of it. “What is this logic? _Is_ there logic behind it?” No there wasn’t, because under Granville’s reign they had never tried to fight back against the dragons—they had even tried leaving food out specifically _for_ the beasts and that had never worked either. So what changed?

Again, he suspected Hiro—somehow, he felt, Night Furies were the missing link in this puzzle.

So, the sensible thing was to keep working with the key.

“Come on you, let sleeping Gronkles lie,” he said, snapping his fingers above Hiro’s head. “We have work to do.”

Hiro waited until Boulders-on-Hill had woken back up and gotten some fish for dinner before asking about the Goregutter in the cave.

Or rather, the Nadder not _in_ the cave.

_“So how’d it go?”_ he asked her. _“Did you catch up to it?”_

_“I did,”_ she said, pawing a fish back and forth listlessly. _“And…I told him about what it was you were doing.”_

Okay, this could be good…. _”How’d he take it?”_

_“Not well,”_ she admitted. _“He said the idea was crazy.”_

_“That’s how you know it’s a good idea.”_

_“And…”_ Plant her paws down firmly, sighing before looking at him. _“I don’t know about this. I need it explained to me better, outlined better, so I can explain it to other dragons.”_ Look him up and down. _“Except I don’t think you know about this either, do you? You’re winging it just as much as I am right now.”_

_“I mean, technically,”_ he started—stopped, sighed. _“Yes. I’m—it’s new ground, okay? I don’t exactly know what I’m doing, I’m just—”_ Look at Obake. _“He doesn’t want to fight dragons. I’m not complaining, but I want to know why. Learning from him is the surest way to accomplish that.”_

She nodded, eyes distant. _“You…did you manage to save any more dragons?”_

He shook his head. _“One Zippleback, but that’s it. We’ve spent the whole time you were gone brainstorming how to get them out,”_ he said. _“The thing is, whatever we try only works once—we can’t….”_ Groan angrily. _“I want to just go down there, storm it, let all the dragons free and bonk the Yokai in the head for doing this but I can’t. We’re one dragon and one Yokai and there’s only so much we can do.”_

She watched him, sitting there and huffing like he was a baby hatchling having a temper tantrum _he was NOT_ it was just that the world was _SO unfair—_

_“Well,”_ she said finally. _“Now we’re two dragons and a Yokai. Think that’d make a difference?”_

He looked at her, feeling his breathing start to even. _“Maybe.”_ Lay down, pillow his head on his forelimbs. _“I just wish this were easier.”_

_“I wished that while I was out flying,”_ she told him, easing down herself. _“And you know what? I came to the conclusion that doing the right thing is hard, but it’s worth doing.”_

He nodded, looked at Obake puzzling over his dry leaves again. Whatever this was…whatever this was, it was worth seeing through until the end. They could do this.

Maybe.

That night the great hall was crowded like it usually was in the nights following a dragon raid, people preferring to stick together instead of risking being caught on their own. It was ridiculous, really, the days following a dragon raid were usually quiet, but whatever, people usually didn’t make sense.

That was Momakase’s opinion anyway, spooning some soup into a bowl and turning over Obake’s new behavior. He was acting strangely, and that wasn’t something you wanted out of what was _supposed_ to be an ally—at the very least, it meant another public beheading and one less warm body between her and a charging dragon. Stalk through the room, stop when Audrey waved at her, figured the empty spot next to her was as good as any.

“Glad you could join us,” Helga said drily, gesturing a little with her spoon.

“Not for lack of other seats,” Momakase muttered, risking a brief moment of silence with a hand gently resting over her bowl. It was thin, but she wasn’t sharing.

“Mm-hmm. I understand _you_ bumped off Toomes for that bird soup?”

“That’s old news,” Momakase said, stirring her soup…broth, more likely, flavored with the barest of herbs and vegetables and the ever-present fish. Oi, she hoped the raiders came back soon. “Give me something new to chew on.”

“Has anyone noticed that Obake’s acting weird?” Audrey asked. “Well, weird- _er?”_

“We’ve all noticed that,” Helga told the younger Yokai. “That’s just not unusual enough to make news.”

Momakase nodded in agreement, despite noticing the same thing. “Come up with something else.”

“Me, I’d just like to figure out how to get some Zippleback gas,” Vinnie said, gesturing with a spoon. “Explosive gas that goes boom? Already got plans for little bombs with that.”

“Surprised you didn’t ask Obake to rig something up for you.”

Audrey snorted, went back to her soup. “Good luck with that—he’s never around anymore. I’m surprised he even showed _up_ last time.”

Momakase twirled her knife, considering. “Fair’s fair, _I’d_ be making myself scarce if Yama and Sparkle wanted _me_ dead.”

“But something I’m questioning,” Helga said, tapping her own penknife against the table as she pondered. “All these dragons in the fresh raids, the ones in the kill ring—you don’t just _get_ that good. It’s like he’s manipulating them somehow.”

“Zere was always zat one rumor,” Mole put in.

“ _Go away,_ Mole.”

“What rumor?” Audrey asked, looking at Vinnie.

Vinnie made a noise at being caught mid-sip—swallowed first and wiped his mouth. “Eh, the face thing—first rumor I hear after being pressganged into service is he’s really some sort of actual ghost.”

“He’s real enough,” Momakase pointed out. “Bony, but real.”

Helga nodded, gesturing at Momakase but looking at Audrey and Vinnie. “Revenants are superstition,” she told them. “By that definition, the whole of the Yokai are. No, my thought is he’s come up with some sort of new plan.” Eyebrows furrowed as a fresh thought occurred to her. “Like planning to overthrow Callaghan somehow.”

“Helga that’s crazy,” Audrey countered.

Helga scootched closer over the table, the rest of them imitating, not wanting to be overheard. “Is it? Think about it—he was with the Yokai when they first started; I heard Callaghan handpicked him himself, gave him his mask almost right away. Now Yama might be his second-in-command, but as far as tactics and numbers are concerned that’s Obake. Callaghan is the only one on this island he hasn’t bested in _some_ way.

“And then this,” she persisted. “Snubbing the meeting, missing a raid, never showing his face except when he can help it, hiding from Yama—he’s planning something big.”

“Dibs said he shot down a Night Fury,” Mole said.

“Dibs says a lot of things,” Momakase put in, eyeing Helga cautiously. “You know you’d get killed for that if anyone else overheard you.”

“But am I wrong?” she asked her, eyebrow arched. “Comparing what we know to what we’ve seen, do you have a better alternative?”

She considered. Obake was always standoffish and cold, calculating and cunning, murderous to a fault. If he thought he could get away with killing Callaghan….

Her mind butted against the same issue it did when contemplating killing the man herself: the other Yokai. There might be dissenters here and there, but she was certain they made up only a fraction of the total tribe. Killing Callaghan would do nothing but paint a target on Obake’s own back, and the whole tribe would probably fall to infighting within the week. No, if Obake _was_ planning such a thing, he’d have to plan something big that would ensure no one would dream of fighting back.

And he might be clever, but she couldn’t picture such a thing.

“That’s crazy,” Audrey said, eyeing Helga and Momakase. “You’re _both_ crazy—we’re never getting rid of Callaghan.”

Vinnie was chewing on a match, contemplating something. “And if you _did_ get rid of him…then what?”

Then what indeed. Everyone would start fighting each other, most of the tribe would be dead, and even if they escaped the carnage, they had garnered too fearsome a reputation; showing their faces anywhere else in the Archipelago or the neighboring areas would see them dead.

But it did make her curious—whatever Obake was planning, whether it be Callaghan’s death or perhaps an escape….

She wanted in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Kamikaze’ means ‘divine wind,’ and if you stayed awake in History class you know it was the name of the Japanese suicide airplanes in WWII. Since airplanes are not a thing in this story, though…let’s just say the Celts aren’t the only ones who run shrieking at their foes. D:
> 
> Also, the scientist line is an old joke I’ve seen online, and makes sense because part of the scientific discovery is seeing if the same outcome comes from conducting the same experiment over and over. The bit about the centipede in the ear comes from the book _Dragon Keeper_ by Carole Wilkinson—apparently in that book centipedes will crawl into a dragon’s ear to eat their brains. D:


	28. Conspiracy by Candlelight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 28, everybody! Sorry for the spotty updating this month—decorating has been more extensive this year (but it’s pretty!).
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney
> 
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks
> 
> Wreck-It Ralph © 2012 Disney
> 
> Atlantis: The Lost Empire © 2001 Disney

“Now let’s see how your comprehension is going.”

Hiro huffed, wrote down _Obake Hiro fish give_ , hesitated before making the question mark Obake had showed him.

“Hmm,” Obake noised. “Close.” Wrote it in the correct order. “At least you’re in the neighborhood now.”

“Hff,” Hiro noised, copied what Obake had written, looked up at him.

“Very good,” he said, giving Hiro a fresh fish he had lifted from the village. “Now let’s see…how far into abstracts should we move today?”

Hiro huffed, watched as Obake went over the rune for _fire_ , figuring he’d start with more solid concepts first—still debating on what he could do with those dragons in the kill ring. Couldn’t exactly convince someone to let them go, whether as a favor or a bet—dragon parts were a key part of the village’s income, alongside raiding and mercenary work. No one would _willingly_ let go of a third of their income. Not without a good reason.

Unfortunately, _spiting Yama_ wasn’t a good _enough_ reason.

“Okay,” Obake said, once Hiro got that rune down—it was a few simple strokes, so it was easy enough once you got past the part about a dragon learning how to write. “Maybe we try going over question words again—"

Anything else was cut off by the sound of scrabbling and squawking and growling—stand up, reaching for the little knife he had been keeping in his belt—

Blinked at the sight of the Gronkle coming into the cave, kicking out with its back paws before turning around and growling as it backed in—

Why became clear when a troupe of Terrible Terrors followed it in—judging by the markings, colorations, and scars, he was thinking that most of them were the ones he had freed, with at least a handful of the others being the ones that had visited in the cove.

Noting how swelled the little flock was, he was starting to regret letting those in the kill ring go.

_“Oi!”_ he barked finally, causing one to glance over—

Which caused a nice ripple effect when they all quieted, staring at him—

Except for the cove bunch, which chirped and scuttled over to Hiro, bobbing their heads and generally acting excited to see him.

That was secondary to noting the smug look the Gronkle gave the other little Terrors before trotting over to deposit its fish by the fire. Sit, lick its paws as the two groups of Terrors started chattering at each other—

“Ugh—here,” he said, grabbing a larger fish and flinging it as hard as he could. “Anything to shut you up.”

The Terrors immediately dove after the fish—focus on spearing some of the smaller ones and putting them in the fire….

Notice the look the Gronkle was giving him, somewhere bordering comically dismayed.

“What?” he asked. “Oh no, let me guess, if you feed them they never leave.”

Yes, that was exactly the problem.

Momakase wasn’t sure what to make of the little scrap of paper slipped under her door—for one, that meant someone had tailed her to figure out where she was staying tonight (only Obake was daft enough to stay in the same building for more than two nights in a row).

For another, it was telling her to come to a different building, one on the very edge of the cliff, and to take care that she wasn’t followed.

Well let’s consider this, shall we? This stank of a setup, was probably someone planning on killing her and throwing her body over the cliff. Probably banking on her being stupid enough to walk in not expecting a trap. Idiots.

It was why she was heading to the location, yes, but bristling with her knives, one hand on a ready hilt in case someone thought to come at her from behind. And yes, she was being cautious, but mostly to avoid getting ambushed on the way to getting ambushed—she just hoped it wasn’t _too_ many people, she’d be in trouble for wiping out a chunk of the Yokai’s fighting force.

Her first inclination that she was to reevaluate her initial supposition was spotting Felix peeking out of a higher window—not that she didn’t think he was easily intimidated into keeping quiet, it was just that there were better options for a lookout.

The next was when she did knock on the door, stepping back and to the side so she could more effectively stab whoever stuck their head out, only for Felony Carl to say, from behind the closed door, “Put it away, ‘Kase.”

“So I’m guessing this isn’t a ploy to kill me?” she asked, prompting Carl to finally open the door and peer out at her. “Pity, I was hoping for a workout.”

“You might still die from this, don’t worry,” Helga said, stepping out of the shadows—eyed the knife with amusement. “Oh put it away—we have better things to do.”

“Like?” Momakase asked, circling around the door a little to eye her as she walked in past Carl.

“You’ll have to get in here and see, now won’t you?”

Momakase glared after her, eyed Carl still standing there holding the door open…finally followed the other Yokai in. If _Carl_ was involved, it couldn’t be _that_ bad.

But she had been wrong before.

“You want to do _what?”_

“Did I stutter?” Helga asked, staring down Audrey, one hand lightly supporting her weight as she leaned over a small table—the building looked like it had been a small barn once upon a time, one that was now used as a place to sleep only when the weather was fine.

The giant hole that a Gronkle had busted through the side overlooking the ocean had made any other use of it very difficult.

Except for now, apparently, when it was being used for just plain idiocy.

“I’m sorry, you called me here to stage a _coup?”_ Momakase demanded, quickly taking note of who else was in the room.

“ _Coup_ sounds so vulgar,” Helga said, tugging her penknife from the table before circling around it. “Think of it as _a restructuring of the corporate ladder,_ or _a reshuffling of the Yokai hierarchy,_ or that Callaghan will be permanently moving in a different direction.”

“Ohh, this is _so_ exciting!” Mole breathed, clapping lightly and causing Vinnie to edge away from him, concerned.

Momakase felt that on a personal level, took in the room. Well let’s see, Felix and Ralph weren’t _quite_ a surprise, they hated the Yokai—but they also didn’t have the nerve to do what needed doing. Audrey, Vinnie, and Mole? Well they had overheard Helga that first night, she needed to continue including them so they were implicated, same as her—same thing with Momakase.

Carl was a question mark.

“And you didn’t see fit to include Dibs in this?” she asked him.

“Dibs has many strengths,” Carl said, ignoring her disbelieving snort. “Discretion is not one of them.”

“Uh- _huh,”_ Barb said flatly, before looking at Helga. “And do you have a _plan_ for this restructuring?”

“I have a few,” Helga said, leaning back against the table. “But first I’m going to be wanting an idea of how many Yokai would be in _our_ corner. I’m sure at least a _few_ of you have skills in ferreting out information.”

“Uh, question,” Felix posed hesitantly, gingerly raising a hand. “How uh, how dangerous is this going to be?”

“All of us dead if this falls through,” Barb shot at him, before glaring at Helga. “And I’d rather _not_ put my daughter at risk. Now, forget the numbers for a minute— _what is the plan?”_

“Numbers are important,” Helga said, circling the rest of the way around the table. “If we have the numbers, then the inevitable rash of infighting after Callaghan is dead won’t be as devastating.”

“I’m thinking we make it look like an accident,” Vinnie volunteered, one arm crossed, the other gesturing a little.

“We dig a hole for him to fall in,” Mole volunteered.

“Eh, that doesn’t sound as accidental as I’d like.”

“If you think you can pull it off, start brainstorming,” Helga ordered. “We need backup plans.”

“You haven’t even said what the _primary_ plan is yet,” Barb said flatly.

Momakase had an idea. “Don’t tell me—you’re hoping that Obake actually _does_ challenge Callaghan? He’d never be able to take him in a straight fight!”

“Obake _wouldn’t_ take Callaghan in a straight fight,” Helga countered, pointing her penknife at Momakase. “He’d come up with a clever trap and take him out that way—probably _would_ succeed at making it look like an accident,” she added, glancing at Vinnie.

“Uh, s-so why isn’t _he_ here?” Ralph asked, arms crossed and shoulders hunched as he glanced around, like he was expecting Obake to just materialize out of nowhere.

“When was the last time you saw him around the village?” Audrey asked him. “Obake’s a literal ghost right now.”

“Which is what makes me think he’s planning on making a move,” Helga said, digging the tip of her penknife into the table thoughtfully. “He moves, we move afterwards once the fighting starts.”

“So this is the plan?” Barb asked—when it was confirmed for her: “Then I’m out.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” Barb said, already heading for the door and giving Carl the evil eye. “This isn’t a plan—this is you playing revolutionary and hoping— _hoping_ —that a boy who has never cared for the Yokai or the village it used to be would actually care enough to do your dirty work. Move it, Carl.”

“We don’t _need_ him to care,” Helga countered. “You and I both know Obake has no interest in being chief. All we need is for him to take out Callaghan.”

Barb turned her glare on Helga, although this time it was tempered with something that was almost amusement. “You didn’t know him back then—Callaghan gave him the _one thing_ he wanted. He won’t bite the hand that took the leash off.”

“You seem rather sure of that.”

“Like I said, I knew how he was like back then.” Turn back to Carl. “Move it before I make you cough up a kidney.”

Carl glanced up at Helga—sighed and stepped aside—

Helga was right there, yanking the door back shut and getting nose-to-nose with Barb.

“Fine,” she spat. “You say that—but the fact remains that we need Callaghan gone.”

“And who’s going to do that for you?” Barb demanded. “Anyone who takes Callaghan out will be taken out by the next Yokai with aspirations of grandeur—the next chief wouldn’t last a week, if they survived taking him out in the first place!”

“I know that,” Helga said, voice rough and trembling. “So. If Obake doesn’t make his move…I take Callaghan out.”

Dead silence followed that declaration.

“Helga, that’s crazy,” Audrey said.

“No, what’s crazy is continuing to follow a leader whose sanity started slipping years ago,” Helga shot back. “I won’t make it, most likely—if Callaghan and I don’t take each other out then Yama will step in and kill me right after. But it triggers what we want.” Give Barb a level glare.

“Whatever happens will happen in the days following Callaghan’s return,” she continued slowly, cold steel in her voice. “We have until _then_ to root out supporters and find a hiding place away from the worst of it. Surely, you can get behind _that?”_

Barb held her ground for several painful seconds….

Did finally step back, relenting.

“You still have too many holes in your plans,” Barb said sullenly. “But if I can keep Juney away from the worst of it…I’m in.”

“That’s why you lot are here,” Helga said, smile triumphant. “We’re working out the kinks. And we’ll be needing ideas for that hiding place.”

“One of the other islands would be best,” Carl offered. “Slip through the woods, sneak away in the dead of night while everyone’s fighting. I know some guys in the fishing crew who’d be willing.”

“See? Our numbers are growing already,” Helga said, tapping Carl before moving back to the center of the building. “If you know of someone who’d be interested in joining us, let me or Carl know and we’ll move from there— _no spreading this around._ I’d rather not be hanging by the torii.” Turn, evaluate them all. “For now, focus on potential escape routes through the village and the rest of the island, places we can hide, paths we could even manage in the dark. I want us to be ready the moment blood hits the ground.” Give them one last long look. “All right, that’s it. Dismissed.”

“Hold it,” Audrey said, when Helga headed for the door, Barb already with a hand on the handle. “Why are you doing this? This goes wrong we’re all dead—you’re _planning_ on dying for this to work! Why?”

Helga’s face was in shadow, but Momakase could see her expression, the pain and determination in it—wasn’t surprised at the way she turned to face Audrey, so fast her braid whipped around her neck.

“The man I served before Callaghan told me we had an equal partnership,” she said, tone even, fury simmering. “He lied, obviously, left me to die. I swore I’d never make another mistake like that again.”

Silence met that declaration, and Helga left unopposed, Barb following with something approaching newfound respect for the woman. Quiet murmuring after they left, debating on leaving for different sleeping locales, reasoning that there might not be a raid tonight, or rain, a few finally retreating to a corner under a loft or the loft itself. Audrey picked herself out a corner, sat there with her knees drawn to her chest, obviously debating with herself over this whole thing. Momakase felt that.

“Now here’s _my_ question,” Momakase said quietly, looking at Carl. “What’s _your_ stake in this?”

Carl stared at the lantern sitting on the small table, lost in thought.

“We weren’t always a tribe of killers,” he said finally. “Maybe some of us are too far gone, but…I’d like to change that, rescue those who can still be saved.”

She laughed at that, went to the table. “You are a fool then.”

“What about you?” he asked her. “If we could change things…would you go for it?”

Would she? She had a lot of pent-up rage, fury at the series of events that saw her with the Yokai, had turned it and tempered it and sharpened it on dragons and humans alike. Was she too far gone, or was there a chance? _Did_ she want to take that chance?

“I don’t think I have a choice,” she said finally, picking the lantern up. “I overheard Helga make the first statement, she brought me here so if I try to finger her she has leverage on me. That’s how the game works.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be that way.”

Scoff. “Go to sleep, Carl—you’re dreaming.”

And with that she blew the lantern out, plunging them into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So…in the extensive writing for this fic the past couple of months, the latter half of this chapter blindsided and surprised me, but definitely made for an awesome subplot that kicked the larger part of the fic into gear. It’s not like Obake was having an easy time of it, after all….
> 
> Helga is paraphrasing Yzma from _The Emperor’s New Groove,_ if anyone was wondering. The torii, by the way, are those Japanese gates, and are usually linked with the spiritual—although one of the sources I consulted when looking up the name _did_ name one of the crossbeams as for hanging (although probably for lamps).


	29. Welcome to Dragon Training

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 29, everybody! Oh goodness I haven’t updated this since _last year_ *bricked*
> 
> In other news, happy escape from 2020! :D
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney
> 
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks
> 
> Surf’s Up © 2007 Sony (“Peace! Peace! I come in peace!”)
> 
> Shrek © 2001 DreamWorks ("Really-really")

Okay, Boulders-on-Hill was aggravated at all the Terrors hanging out, but Hiro was ecstatic. For one, he had more dragons to teach about Yokai.

For another, being called _Yokai-Tamer_ was good for the ego.

_“Seriously?”_ Boulders-on-Hill demanded flatly.

_“It’s not my fault,”_ Hiro tried.

_“It is, actually,”_ the one calico Terror said.

_“Okay fine it is YOU try convincing a bunch of dragons your size about this.”_

_“Fair enough,”_ Boulders-on-Hill huffed, shooing some of the Terrors away so she could lay down.

_“As for the rest of you!”_ Hiro said, bounding around before standing on the sand. _“I am about to teach you a brand-new way to interact with the Yokai!”_

Several Terrors _ooh_ ed appreciatively, all of them crowding around to watch—he started with the most important scribble.

_“See this?”_ Hiro asked, indicating the scribble. _“This means ‘fish’ in the Yokai scribble-language. If you write it, then the Yokai gives you fish!”_

_“Really?”_ a red Terror demanded.

_“Really-really. Watch.”_ Chuff at Obake, who had been watching closely, write _fish_ again, chuff at him.

“So the plan is to have a flock of Terrors mob me,” Obake said, before eyeing the flock in question. Expression was evaluating, like he was debating the merits of this decision….

Gave him a fish.

_“Take a whole turn, why don’t you,”_ Hiro muttered, slurping it up before turning to the Terrors. _“So as you can see, Yokai respond to these specific scribbles! There’s a lot more than just this one, though, but it’s a good one to know.”_

The Terrors bobbed up and down at that—crowded around, trying to imitate the scribbles. Obake was watching closely, gave small fish to any Terror that got it right.

_“You know feeding them means they won’t go away,”_ Boulders-on-Hill insisted. _“Terrors are annoying.”_

_“Excuse you,”_ a teal one said, licking her eye.

_“This is an important part of the plan,”_ Hiro assured the Gronkle.

Thus went the next several days, since Hiro had to go over all the squiggles he knew. Boulders-on-Hill grumbled at having to retrieve large quantities of fish for the training purposes, was quick to forgive this when in his examination of her scales Obake scrubbed the dead scales from her wing joins.

_“How are we looking?”_ she asked, glancing back. _“Do the new scales look nice and fresh? Hey, NEW scales, why are you fussed about the old ones?”_

Hiro glanced back, saw that Obake was indeed intrigued by the shed scales. _“He did that with mine too—maybe they find scales interesting.”_

_“Hmm,”_ she noised, watching Obake for a bit before going over to a stalagmite and rubbing against it. _“He can keep them—thin useless scales. Good eating means this batch’ll be NICE and strong!”_

_“I’ve noticed the same thing,”_ a purple Terror told her. _“Fishing for myself is a LOT nicer!”_

_“Getting a Yokai to feed you is cooler though,”_ a blue one insisted.

_“Definitely,”_ the blue one from the cove said.

_“And I don’t have that stupid bad-egg smell stuck in my nose anymore!”_ a green Terror cheered.

_“See? See? We all agree that this is much nicer,”_ Hiro said, dancing a little in place. _“Come on guys, let’s see how the squiggles are going.”_

Watch, nodding as the Terrors took turns scratching out the squiggles they knew, sand pile much increased once Obake had learned that asking the Terrors nicely to fetch more _got_ them more in exchange for fish—Hiro had to tell them to quit before they filled the whole cavern, although Obake now had _more_ of the carry-stumps. Hiro was guessing they had stolen them from the Yokai-nest.

Obake had filed that little piece of information away, he could tell.

_“Okay,”_ Hiro said, debating on what to teach next—didn’t know what reason they’d have to learn how to write _his_ name…maybe Obake’s. start scratching that one out—

Startled back in surprise when a long-paw slammed into it—looked up to see Obake, expression muddied but giving off _stern-worried._

“Not that one,” he ordered.

Hiro blinked at him, not comprehending. Why not? Wasn’t it important that they be able to use this one? What was he missing?

Huff, shake his head, glare at Obake—finally draw the questioning-mark Obake had taught him.

Obake looked them all over…sighed, shook his head. “Fine…we’ll do a new one.”

_“Good,”_ Hiro said, nodding. _“Hey everyone, Obake’s gonna teach us a new squiggle!”_

Obake seemed to have no idea how to take every dragon in the cave crowding around to watch, or the Terrors crawling up to sit on his shoulders and watch.

“What have you done to me?” Obake sighed.

Hiro grinned, wiggling a little.

He had trained a Yokai, that’s what.

So, good news, dragons were intelligent. Time for a radical restructuring of everything he knew to be true. In other news, be ready for there to really truly be a Sasquatch on Muirahara Island and for the gray shapes in the moon to really be a little boy fishing.

Because the _Terrors_ —Terrible Terrors, considered to be the least intelligent dragons, no better than a mindless swarm— _Hiro,_ another _dragon,_ was teaching them how to _write!_

Now to be fair, he wasn’t certain if the comprehension was there, but the fact that they were even able to attempt it at _all_ was very impressive. Just… _how._

And the fact that they were now all crowded around _him_ and were excited about a new rune was…interesting. Ended up teaching them the rune for _mountain_ , figured that would work. They seemed to prefer concrete concepts anyway, and he didn’t have the patience to try to teach a flock of Terrors abstract thought. At least not today.

Fortunately, the Terrors had retreated to a pile of sleeping dragons, leaving Obake to examine the scales the Gronkle had shed earlier. Surprisingly thin for a Boulder-class dragon—he was almost certain he could snap a couple of these in half.

Did so, intrigued, studied the inside edge, wishing he could make it bigger to see the structure. Scales, dead skin clustered around it…didn’t strike him as being very healthy. Certainly wasn’t healthy if he could break it with his bare hands, no leverage or torque to speak of.

Look at the Gronkle, lying next to the fire—lean a little to take note of the scale beneath what he had removed.

“Hrrf?” the Gronkle noised, sitting up to look at him.

“I’m curious,” he said, holding up one of the dead scales—the Gronkle considered, lifted a wing, watched him carefully as he poked it. Soft, which was what you’d expect from around an important join. Poke at it, rub his finger along it…not as smooth and sleek as Hiro’s but definitely…healthier. Much healthier than the one he currently had.

Snort at that—of course a shed scale wouldn’t look as well as one still on the dragon—sit back, contemplate this new little realization about dragons, take a second to marvel at the fact that such a dragon let him poke around such a crucial joint with no fuss.

“Wuff,” Hiro noised.

“Contemplating a new aspect of dragon care,” he explained, opening his notebook and jotting the information down, going from dry observation to juicy theorizing. Did dragons have a special diet for their scales? Were the scales made of some tougher keratin or some other material altogether? After all, hair and nails were made of the same substance, even feathers were—why not dragon scales?

Pity he had no way to test this.

Huff at that, tap his pencil on the edge of his notebook as he considered the dragons about him.

“Where do you lot even come from,” he mused—wasn’t prepared for Hiro to point one way, the Gronkle to point another. “Ah.” Consider. “So it’s two different flights attacking us. Interesting.”

Hiro shrugged, the Gronkle nodding—

Seemed strangely pensive before pawing some sand over and writing a couple of runes. Obake leaned a little to look—

_Mountain fire._

“You mean like lava? A volcano?” Interesting—as far as he knew there _were_ no active volcanoes in the area. Not even dormant ones—those that he knew of had long gone extinct, collapsed into themselves to form calderas sheltering bays.

“Wherever you’re from, it must have been quite a haul,” Obake observed. “Either that or you’re trying to tell me dragons just spring fully-formed out of a volcano, and I know _that_ one’s not true.” Indicate Hiro. “If that were the case, _you_ came out of the oven too early.”

Hiro huffed, sensing he was being teased.

“Where is this mountain?” Obake asked the Gronkle, aware he was carrying on a conversation with a dragon. Watched as it pointed north. “I suppose there _could_ be one up that way that we haven’t heard of—no one pokes around much up there, except Vikings.”

Felt his mouth twitch a bit at the memory of being taught about them—a strong breed of people, he had heard them described as, very hardy, open to trade but primarily warlike and much preferred fighting over all. Considering they considered a fighting death an honorable one, it made sense they were so battle-oriented.

All of it ridiculous, in his opinion. They’d have bits and pieces missing because they charged into a fight, the same as some of the idiotic Yokai (case in point: the ones during the latest Nadder fight). What good was getting into a fight you weren’t assured of winning, honestly. Especially relying on brute strength—which he very much lacked. No, he’d rather not delve into that level of idiocy.

But they were considered dangerous, worth avoiding or treating with respect, alongside anyone who occupied islands anywhere _near_ the Meridian of Misery.

It was one of the reasons he planned on _not_ going north when he finally was free of this place.

Consider the Gronkle again. he supposed that, in a pinch, he _could_ use it as a means of escape…but that would only really be in case of a dire emergency. For now, it was better to wait for Hiro’s wing to heal. Plan for the need to get out, yes, but don’t panic and push yourself into a corner.

That was all he _could_ do at this point.

He risked sleep that night, woke up to find himself with the Gronkle as a backrest and a flock of Terrors as a blanket.

This was not preferable, for the record.

After a nerve-wracking hour when he was finally able to get out of the dragon-pile, he returned to his initial task of prepping up that inner cave, taking Hiro with him lest he get eaten. Hiro had followed along sleepily until following him back to the main cave to retrieve some of the other supplies, went back to the dragon pile to fall back asleep.

“Lazy,” Obake said—got a snort in response.

Hiro _did_ eventually find his way back in to sniff curiously at the work he had got done, was accompanied by several curious Terrors who fanned out and sniffed at everything.

“Well, what do you think?” Obake asked the little Night Fury. “Shelves, work tables, means to hide them all, a fire pit hidden from immediate view when not lit.” Had taken some work to chip out a divot and collect the proper rocks to make it look like simply another rock formation, but there you go. “I think we’re ready to move in, don’t you?”

Hiro yipped excitedly, bouncing up and down on his paws before running around and back to him, warbling excitedly.

“Good boy,” Obake said, scratching him behind the ears. “And I think, if these dragons are willing, we might finally be able to crack some of the secrets of dragon-kind.”

Okay, so maybe that wasn’t a _good_ thing.

Hiro glared at the tame-fire being fed fish, debating over what Obake had said. Watched as he smoothed out the sand that the Terrors had been happy enough to fetch at the promise of fish, watched him watch the Terrors excitedly scribble into the sand and wait for fish, occasionally chirping in confusion as he corrected one of their scribbles.

_We might finally be able to crack some of the secrets of dragon-kind._

_“Does that sound like a good idea to you?”_ Imaginary-Older-Brother asked. _“What kind of secrets? What is he planning on doing to you? To all of us? That mess out there—he could be planning to bring it to any nest in the world—no one is safe.”_

Okay, the good news was that was just worst-case scenarios. Bad news was…well, there was just something in the way that Obake approached things that made him leery. Obake approached new schemes like a hunter stalking his prey: intense and with singular focus. He’d tackle this new plan and rip it to shreds, Hiro was almost certain.

Which was precisely what he did the next several days, systematically testing for the knockout point on the Terrors and seeing if they too disliked eel (of course they did EVERYONE hated eels). Go over the scribbles again, brainstorm ways in which to free the other dragons.

Thinking about them made him feel like he _had_ swallowed that eel Obake had brought—every passing day meant another one died in that kill ring, but unless he helped Obake with this they’d never figure out a way to save them. He had to fix this, and to do so he had to trust Obake.

Yes he was certain that sharing how dragons worked with this Yokai was dangerous. But that was a problem for future-Hiro, he decided—right now there were dragons in front of him that needed their help.

Pad up next to Obake, sit and huff at him to distract him from his scribbling on dry-leaves.

“You’ve seemed preoccupied,” Obake observed, not looking up. “A penny for your thoughts.”

_“I—what?”_ Hiro asked, confused.

Obake glanced up at him. “I suppose dragons have no need for currency. Although I _do_ wonder what’s been occupying your thoughts as of late.”

Hiro shrugged—it wasn’t the sort of thing he could render down into the pawfuls of scribbles he knew. Hmm, maybe….

Draw the questioning-mark, look at Obake, start writing down the scribbles he knew. That was usually good for getting Obake to show him some fresh ones.

It worked this time too, and it was an endeavor that nicely distracted him for a while. Curl up next to him when they started to blend together, start to doze off as the other dragons did the same—

_“Hello? Hello is anyone here?”_

Everyone twitched to alertness at the sound of a new dragon’s voice—what to do what to do—wait! They had been playing with how sound worked in here—

Angle himself, bellow _“WHO DARES TO ENTER MY DOMAIN?”_

_“Oh ‘gon—peace! Peace! I come in peace!”_

Glance at Boulders-on-Hill, who shrugged. _“ENTER.”_

A horned snout nosed its way in, followed by the rest of a frightened Nadder, trying to see everywhere at once—

_“Wait—that’s it?”_ he demanded, spines lifted in surprise as Hiro and Boulders-on-Hill started laughing. _“I thought you were like this big huge scary dragon!”_

_“It’s called ‘using your environment to your advantage,’”_ Hiro declared smugly, parroting one of the things Obake explained about the traps he set. Oh wait speaking of—“ _This is my Yokai, Obake, who I have tamed. No being mean to Obake.”_

The Nadder squinted at Obake, currently eyeing him warily. _“That IS that weird Yokai I saw in that death gully!”_

_“It’s called a kill ring, actually.”_

Boulders-on-Hill sidled up to him, wiggling in happiness. _“I’m glad you decided to come back.”_

The Nadder ducked his head. _“W-well…I wasn’t thrilled about…you know…it’s a big world when you’re by yourself….”_

_“Understandable,”_ she said—looked at Hiro. _“This is Gleam-Scale, he was with my flight.”_

_“Very cool,”_ Hiro said, nodding and not feeling so bad for not recognizing the Nadder—wasn’t from his flight so he wouldn’t. _“So you’re going to be joining us?”_

_“Maybe?”_ Gleam-Scale hedged.

_“Very good. But the first thing you must do, to prove your worth, is to let this Yokai touch you,”_ Hiro said, pointing at Obake, who glared at him.

“You must have this shill down to an art form now, don’t you,” he asked flatly.

Gleam-Scale snorted at that. _“I don’t know—”_

_“You have to, it’s the rule,”_ Hiro insisted.

_“It’ll be fine,”_ Boulders-on-Hill assured him, padding closer to Obake to demonstrate. _“He’s actually surprisingly tame.”_

Gleam-Scale hesitated, hedged….

Finally started mincing closer.

_“Good, good, you don’t want to startle him,”_ Hiro said, nodding. _“But maybe a bit faster than ice floe, I’d like to get this done while I’m still a hatchling.”_

_“This thing is a KILLING MACHINE give me a break!”_ Gleam-Scale snapped—flinched when he noticed Obake flinching. _“Um—”_

_“Oh yeah,”_ Hiro said smugly. _“SO dangerous.”_

_“Just let the stupid Yokai pet you,”_ Boulders-on-Hill sighed.

Gleam-Scale swallowed hard, turned his head a little and closed his eyes—Hiro chuffed at Obake, gestured with his head—

“If this kills me I’m coming back and after you,” Obake told him flatly. Gingerly considered the Nadder, carefully reaching forward—

Hiro steadied himself in case he had to act, noting Boulders-on-Hill readying herself on his other side—

Gleam-Scale’s eyes snapped open when Obake touched him, causing him to flinch away.

_“Nope, doesn’t count,”_ Hiro insisted. _“Proper touch, more than one second.”_

_“You’re killing me,”_ Gleam-Scale whined, wincing as Obake put his hand back on his jaw, twitching when he started nibble-grooming— _“No wait what is this what’s it doing—oh wait that feels good lower lower—”_

“Well,” Obake said, looking and sounding pleased as he lifted Gleam-Scale’s head a little. Looked the dragon over. “Seems we have a new member to our little club. We could work with this.”

Perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And in this chapter, Hiro is learning how to teach and Obake’s getting an idea of how useful Terrible Terrors are. Boulders-on-Hill just thinks they’re annoying. We also once again reference the term ‘long-paw’ from Deadly-Bagel's fic _A Gift of Wings_ , which I definitely recommend.
> 
> Also—yes, Obake’s referencing the DreamWorks logo. XD
> 
> And it turns out that yes, be it scales, scutes, horns, fur, feathers, hair, or skin, it’s all keratin. Very interesting. And that’s not true, Hiro—Typhoomerangs like eels.


	30. Tested Again and Again Every Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I haven't seen this much love in a room since Narcissus discovered himself."  
> \--Hermes from _Hercules_ © 1997 Disney

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 30, everybody! Sorry for missing last week but FFN didn't want to play ball and I didn't want to update only one site. :\
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney
> 
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks

Obake spent the next day testing to see if the Nadder reacted to the same stimuli the other dragons did.

The answer to that was _yes,_ and that it was a very bad idea to show the yellow and black pattern of an eel to a dragon with magnesium fire breath. At least the other dragons had scolded it as Obake picked himself up from behind the stalagmite he had dove for (years of watching for tells had alerted him to the fire attack coming).

Other than that, progress with the Nadder went smoothly. It seemed interested in the runes, yes, but didn’t show any inclination to learn those or the other tricks the dragons were learning (there was now a group of Terrors who happily imitated Hiro during his exercises in the hopes of fish). In all, his suppositions of Nadder behavior were showing themselves to be correct: they were vain and aloof and not interested in doing what you wanted.

The first in that list was definitely proved when he finally procured a mirror to test self-awareness with the dragons.

Here was how the basic test worked with animals: you took a smear of paint and put it on the animal, then put it in front of a mirror. If the animal tried to clean the paint off the mirror, then it simply registered the reflection as another member of its species. If it tried to clean it off of itself, then it registered itself as an individual and was aware of that fact.

Of course, at the moment he was having to deal with introducing the dragons to a new item in the cave—it was _very_ entertaining to watch them posturing in front of it and barking like they thought there was a new dragon in the cave. So maybe they all failed the test.

Except after the initial shock, when they’d bump against the mirror (fortunately very strongly anchored) and registered that it was a flat surface, they started playing around with it. The Terrors kept circling around it, trying to peer behind, apparently convinced the mirror hid a passageway. Hiro kept posturing and posing in front of it, sniffing curiously at his reflection and realizing it wasn’t another dragon when he tried to lick it and left slobber on the surface (which didn’t wash out, as Obake was starting to realize). The Gronkle seemed interested, kept angling around to look at itself—probably wasn’t aware of itself, considering its head didn’t have the good turn radius the other dragons had.

The Nadder he was seriously considering calling Narcissus, considering it totally fell in love with its reflection. Of all the dragons, it was the one who spent the most time preening in front of the mirror, using it to address ragged bits of scale or admire its own contours, chiding any curious Terrors away while it focused on itself.

“Narcissus wasted away in front of his own reflection,” Obake observed after the third day of this. “I wonder how many Nadders have starved to death in front of reflective surfaces.”

The Nadder didn’t seem to care much for his comment, ripped the blanket that he had tried covering the mirror with away, went back to preening.

“So we’ve figured out how to get rid of Nadders, at least,” Obake muttered, already considering this trap as he sharpened his pencil (it had taken a while to get the dragons accepting of the little penknife). A flash of light reflected from the fire bounced off of it, onto the mirror—

All the dragons started, looked around like they were hunting for something—Obake angled the knife again, intrigued—

Several Terrors knocked their heads together pouncing for the little shard of light.

Stifle a laugh, send the little flicker of light dancing around the Nadder’s feet, making it bounce around trying to stomp on it—got Hiro in on it too, sending the little Fury racing around the cavern trying to catch it. Even the Gronkle tried stomping on it, would huff in dismay when that failed.

He had a very exhausted group of dragons by the time he had tired of the little game.

He also had a fresh idea, which he happily machined up in the forge when everyone was distracted with the kill ring. Yes, he should feel bad about yet another dragon dying instead of potentially being used to further research this, but he thought he had enough of a testing pool to work with now.

The only problem, of course, was the fact that he’d need to figure out a way to rescue the remaining dragons if he wanted to keep the dragons he had under his thrall.

Now _there_ was a thought.

But for now, a fresh trap to use against the dragons—a couple of small balls that he could toss, that would flash and attract their attention, and then lure them into a spot where nets could easily drop on them. Testing on the dragons in the cave showed that this would work quite well.

It also made him question doing this. He _certainly_ didn’t need to improve his clout in the Yokai, no matter _what_ that pink-haired idiot tried. He had better things to do now than hunt and kill dragons.

It was also why he was once again trying to ward the dragons away from the island—like _that_ had ever worked. The banners hadn’t kept them at bay, but it had made the Monstrous Nightmares waste their dangerous fire. Mirrors might distract the Deadly Nadders, make them land elsewhere and admire their reflections. The rest of them would be distracted by the little mirror-balls.

The next raid was the perfect time to test this.

He had to convince the Gronkle to keep Hiro still (which involved laying on him, apparently), did have to deal with a curious Nadder following him. Extinguish the torch, slip out to watch the carnage.

The mirror-balls he had rigged so that they’d roll away from their hiding spots when a dragon rammed into certain structures, and it did succeed in getting several dragons chasing them away. The Nadders and Nightmares were absent, although a glowing from the cliff edge told him that the Nightmares were once again wasting their fire on the eel banners—judging by their flight trajectory, they had spotted them, narrowed their eyes, and drove right into the fray.

It also meant that when they flew up to join their fellows, they had very little fire left.

The Nadders, at least, were thoroughly distracted by the mirrors, didn’t fly up until they noticed the other dragons retreating—there had been some brief fighting, but little damage to the buildings and very few dragons brought down.

“Well,” he said. “This feels like a successful evening.”

“Wrr?” the Nadder noised, following him. Reached the cave entrance—

The Nadder suddenly shrieked, knocking him down as it spun and blocked the cave entrance—

A very angry Nightmare had spotted them, was hissing and spitting and raging—flew off when the Nadder tried to flame it and it could only produce a weak spittle in response.

“Well,” he gasped. “That could have ended badly.”

Hiro was both thrilled to hear about the success of the distractions and mad that he missed it all.

_“You stopped them from throwing themselves on the Yokai-nest and I missed it,”_ he protested, giving Boulders-on-Hill the stink-eye.

_“Your welcome for saving your life,”_ she huffed.

Hiro grumbled—noticed Gleam-Scale curled up away from the mirror, looking downcast.

_“Hey,”_ he said, padding over. _“What’s bugging you?”_

_“I just—”_ Shake his head, start again. _“I just fought someone from my own flight to protect him—to protect a Yokai!”_ Lift his head, spines flared in distress. _“They kill thousands of us and I defended one!”_

_“Hey, hey! Calm down,”_ Hiro said—glanced back to see Boulders-on-Hill stopping Obake from snatching Hiro away and simultaneously protecting him should Gleam-Scale charge. _“It’s okay—listen. Just tell us what went down. The whole thing.”_

Gleam-Scale was still breathing heavily, glaring at Obake…finally rested his head on the ground.

_“I followed him out,”_ he muttered. _“I was curious about the flaming stick. And then—all those things he was doing…with the shiny hard-water and the eels and the balls of light-shards…he used them against us, against dragons…but it kept them from attacking the nest.”_

_“So…keeping innocent dragons from becoming nest-raiders,”_ Hiro said, spinning it into a positive. _“Continue.”_

_“And then a Nightmare spots us as we’re going back in the cave—tries to attack the Yokai but I—I stopped him. Hissed at him to leave, and he…he called me a useless yellow-bellied traitorous lizard.”_

Hiro and Boulders-on-Hill both winced at that—being called a yellow-bellied lizard was one of the _worst_ insults a dragon could levy at another dragon. And then traitorous…well he guessed he could see how this could be construed as traitorous, but….

_“How many dragons actually made it to the nest and attacked?”_ Hiro asked. _“How many….”_ Couldn’t bring himself to finish _that_ question.

Gleam-Scale shook his head. _“Not many. Maybe a pawful.”_

Hiro bumped his nose against Gleam-Scale’s. “ _I wouldn’t call saving dragons traitorous.”_

_“Let’s go with ‘the Nightmare was a jerk who had a throwing-claw stuck up his tailvent,”_ Boulders-on-Hill offered, causing the other dragons to snort. _“Nightmares tend to be nasty when their blood gets up and they can’t destroy stuff.”_

_“Yeah, rude,”_ Hiro said. _“At least Blue-Firescales isn’t like that.”_

_“Who?”_

_“Um…some of my brother’s friends…my friends too.”_

He happily regaled them with stories after that, sensing they needed the distraction, went over to sit by Obake as he continued with the sharing, mostly to show Gleam-Scale that he wasn’t dangerous, also to calm Obake down since he had been looking like he’d happily tackle the Nadder if he thought Hiro had been in danger.

Curling up to sleep that night, he had to take a moment to acknowledge how weird that was.

_Can’t get all argumentative at me over that one,_ he shot at Imaginary-Older-Brother.

_“I’m sure I could,”_ Imaginary-Older-Brother countered. _“He’s using you, and he can’t use you if you’re dead.”_

Just arguing for arguing’s sake then.

Imaginary-Older-Brother huffed at him. _“Of course I am—I’m a figment of your imagination. You think that the real Older-Brother would be arguing and against this at every turn, so why are you so surprised at me doing exactly what you think?”_

Ugh, that was a point. Huff, sigh….

He missed Older-Brother.

_I don’t know where you are, but you’d better have a good excuse,_ he thought. _I miss you, Older-Brother, and I need the real you to help figure this out._

But Older-Brother would have been here by now, he thought. If he was still—

_No._ No he was not thinking that. Older-Brother was _coming._

He hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anywho, in this chapter Obake references Greek mythology and we see some of the results of his research…and yeah, kinda going with Obake knowing something of Greek mythology, since he used it in his little speech to Hiro in canon. Also Older-Brother references _Ratatouille._


	31. A Brief Tease of Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 31, everybody! Y’all remember Hiro’s older brother, right?...
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney
> 
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks

Time had lost all meaning for Older-Brother.

He was still trapped in his cave, the only thing keeping him from death being the trickles of water he could get from the ice. He scratched and scrabbled as much as he could every time he woke up, but every time he struggled upright it was to increasing dizziness, and his bouts of wakefulness kept getting shorter. None of the dragons were very meaty, not with Mountain-King hogging all the food, and Older-Brother didn’t have much weight to lose to begin with.

He was aware of this, was aware of all of this, was starting to despair at his lack of progress—the longer he was in here the weaker he got, the further away any chance of rescuing Little-Brother got—

 _I can’t give up,_ he told himself, forcing himself back to the ice and stone, pawing at the ice, sending sharp bolts of pain through the claws he had worked down to the quick. _I can’t give up—Little-Brother needs me. Someone has to help._

_Someone…._

He was curled up around his aching stomach, the cavern swimming all around him…just…until it stopped moving….

The next time he opened his eyes, Little-Brother was there.

 _“Little-Brother!”_ he gasped, hardly daring to believe his eyes—there—there there there in front of him as he scrambled, trying to get his paws under him— _“Wait—how are you here?”_

Little-Brother sat there, watching him. _“I’m not.”_

 _“I—what do you mean?”_ Older-Brother asked, finally getting his feet under him.

_“I’m not here, Older-Brother—you never came and got me.”_

_“No—no I’m trying—”_ Reach out—

Paws passed through him.

He shrunk back, horrified. _“No.”_

 _“Believe it, Older-Brother,”_ Little-Brother said. _“You failed.”_

_“No…no….”_

_“It’s your fault, you know,”_ Little-Brother continued. _“You could have insisted I stay with Older-Night-Fury, you could have insisted I stay with Honeysuckle—you could have ignored Mountain-King. You know you could have.”_

_“Little-Brother—I’m trying, I swear—”_

_“There’s no point,”_ Little-Brother interrupted. _“I’m dead, remember?”_

 _“No,”_ Older-Brother choked. _“No—you can’t be—I’m—I’m dreaming. That has to be it. This has to be a dream.”_

Little-Brother sat up on his hind paws…had a weird expression on his face.

 _“Well, you’re half-right,”_ Little-Brother said. _“More like…this has to be a nightmare.”_

And then suddenly, Little-Brother’s claws were digging into himself—

Older-Brother froze in horror as the skull-faced Yokai shucked Little-Brother’s hide—couldn’t react—

Was suddenly slammed against the wall, the Yokai’s claws digging in, eyes dark, teeth jagged and sharp—

 _“Small, but serviceable,”_ it said, glancing at Little-Brother’s discarded remains before turning that leering jawline on him. _“You’ll work much better.”_

No—no—

Its jaws unhinged, surged forward—

_“GYAH!”_

Older-Brother jerked awake, spinning frantically, trying to face everywhere at once—

No. No Yokai, no dead Little-Brother, just him, soaking wet—wait, why was he wet?

_“Up here!”_

He scented fresh air at the same time he heard the hissed call—looked up, saw a dripping hole in the ice above his head, and peering down it—

 _“Guys!”_ he gasped in relief.

Swift-Strike grinned at him, ducked out of the hole. _“Incoming!”_

Healing-Talon’s head suddenly appeared—

A fish plopped down into the water next to him.

He gobbled it up, hardly tasting it—Honeysuckle appeared next, dropped another fish that disappeared just as quickly.

 _“Guys,”_ he said thickly, trying to collect himself, shaking from relief, weakness, a lingering terror from the nightmare….“ _What…how….”_

 _“We’ve been working on this for a while now,”_ Honeysuckle said. _“We’ve only been able to do a little bit at a time without Mountain-King noticing, and the ice was really thick.”_

 _“We also had to be concerned about boulders trapped in the ice,”_ Healing-Talons added, pushing his white head over so he could be seen.

 _“I finally got impatient and flamed the rest of the way tonight,”_ Swift-Strike said, butting her head into the gap as well. _“We figured we were close.”_

 _“Blue-Firescales and Greenscales and Older-Light-Fury have been taking turns with us,”_ Honeysuckle said, pushing her way back into the gap. _“They’re keeping an eye on Mountain-King tonight and stirring up trouble if we need a distraction.”_

 _“Which has been often,”_ Swift-Strike said, pushing her way back in. _“I think we’re officially branded as troublemakers now.”_

 _“Are you well?”_ Healing-Talons asked.

 _“We wanted to bring more fish but Healing-Talons said too much after you hadn’t eaten would hurt worse,”_ Honeysuckle added.

 _“Guys—guys I’m—I’m fine,”_ he lied, flexing his now-useless front talons in the water. _“I’ve just…had a lot of time to myself lately.”_

Silence.

 _“You know we know you’re lying, right?”_ Swift-Strike asked.

 _“Older-Brother, it’s okay,”_ Honeysuckle said. _“Nobody’s given up—we’re still working.”_

 _“Has anyone heard any news about Little-Brother?”_ Older-Brother asked.

 _“Told you,”_ Swift-Strike said. _“Not yet—none of our wing-group has been allowed out except in the shallows to hunt, and we can’t exactly ask around about your Terrors.”_

Ugh. _“But you guys are all right?”_

_“WE’RE fine—WE’RE not the ones who’ve been trapped in an ice-cave for a moon-cycle.”_

A—a moon-cycle—Little-Brother had been alone for that long—

_That skull-faced Yokai could’ve—_

No. No he wasn’t going there. Not yet.

Not while there was still hope left.

 _“I’ve been working my way out from here, but it’s slow going,”_ Older-Brother reported. _“Plus, you know how some dragons want some solitude, their own cave?...Yeah I don’t get that.”_

A trio of churring laughs, soft and nervous.

 _“Listen,”_ Honeysuckle said, back in the hole. _“We can’t stay much longer, but we’ll be back tonight once Mountain-King’s asleep.”_

 _“Hey, thanks to you I can actually TELL when night is,”_ Older-Brother said, looking at the hole. _“I can keep working in the meantime.”_

Healing-Talons stuck his head down again. _“You should rest and let the fish work. You will be needing your energy.”_

He was needing to get out of here, to go rescue his brother—

His legs wobbled once more and he was forced to concede Healing-Talons’ point.

 _“All right,”_ he sighed, sitting down. _“But guys? Thanks.”_

 _“No problem,”_ Swift-Strike said.

 _“We’ll get you out of there soon,”_ Honeysuckle promised.

 _“It is what friends are for,”_ Healing-Talons added.

And then they were gone.

Older-Brother laid down there, not wanting to pad further into the cave and higher ground because that meant leaving the little circle of light, of outside air, of _freedom_.

 _I’m sorry, Little-Brother,_ he thought, resting his head on his paws to keep it out of the water, eyed the water thoughtfully before slurping some up. _I’m taking forever, and I don’t even know if you’re still alive._ Look up, at the lighter darkness at the other end of that narrow tunnel in the ice. _I want you to still be alive—I don’t know what I’d do if I found out you weren’t._

 _Please…please still be waiting for me._ Eyes narrowed.

_Please have enough sense not to come back here._

Hiro watched, ears flipped up, as Obake undid the now-abbreviated bindings on his wing, gingerly poking it before putting fresh cloths on it. He could feel it—his wingbone was healing, was healing so much better than he could have hoped.

He was going to fly again.

And as strange as it was to say, it was going to be thanks to this Yokai, one of the most dreaded of dragon-hunters.

This was incredible—as Older-Brother would say, _unbelievable._ The knowledge he gained here would make him indispensable, would help _so many_ dragons….

Some of his mirth trickled away as he reflected on this unlikely friendship. Other dragons would use his knowledge to better counter Yokai. Yokai which _might_ be friendly like Obake turned out to be, but might just as likely be more than willing to kill dragons. Kill dragons like Obake still did, there was more than one time where he had come back smelling of fresh blood. Those times they had snuck to Obake’s nest in the Yokai-nest—terrifying but important, he needed to see how their nests were laid out—those times still stank of dragons that had met their end. It hadn’t been so bad after the rains, but it was still a thing.

Hiro huffed, prompting Obake to glance at him amid cleaning up the scraps of fabric—it would be dangerous to lead dragons to believe that Yokai would befriend them, unless he could figure out a way to determine if _more_ Yokai could be inclined to be friendly. Maybe that big one that talked to Obake and brought fish, he seemed nice.

What if they weren’t? What if he was right in his supposition, that Obake was a half-Yokai and therefore an outcast? Such a thing wasn’t a _foreign_ concept to dragons—Mountain-King had kicked out his fair share of dragons, and Older-Light-Fury had heard that a lone Night Fury had been caught in the thrall of a northern queen—odd, considering it wasn’t really in their species’ nature to be alone.

Maybe that was what this was: he was desperate and lonely and more than willing to tack draconian logic to a not-dragon. He might as well be slurping up eels.

No, no, don’t think that way—watch. Obake was friendly enough, focused on making sure Hiro had enough to eat, was warm and safe, that his wing was healing—healing well enough to fly! Good as new! Something he could have _never_ hoped for otherwise—he had even gone so far as to offer a gift-name, one that Hiro had finally accepted, had been happy to be benign to the other dragons.

So now it bore the question of what to do with this friendly Yokai once he _did_ heal.

Hiro considered this—Obake came back with his fair share of scrapes, of the kind that suggested being plotted against. The Yokai never seemed concerned with this, and Hiro suspected he gave as good as he got. But it also suggested he didn’t get along well with his flight, and the times he saw Obake interacting with other Yokai it seemed very stiff. Just flying off meant leaving him here, and Obake talked about Hiro flying again with a longing that suggested that he wanted to as well, so badly it hurt.

Laying there, watching him make markings in the bundle of leaves he called a _notebook_ , Hiro came to an honestly dangerous and idiotic conclusion: when he left, he’d have to take Obake with him.

Oh _that_ was fun to try to rationalize out—the base thought of _once you train a Yokai it’s probably cruel to release them back into the wild_ just sounded kind of flimsy; it’d make sense if Obake were a hatchling, but he was full-grown and obviously capable of taking care of himself. No one would likely believe him saying he was _friends_ with a Yokai—he’d have a hard enough time trying to convince them all Obake was _friendly_ , or at least convincing them not to kill him on sight, like you were _supposed_ to do with Yokai.

Ugh, if only Older-Brother were here! Older-Brother would think this plan idiotic, certainly, but he’d patiently go through the entirety of it with Hiro, pointing out all the places it could go wrong and everywhere Hiro had left holes in the plan—it would enable Hiro to tighten everything up, see it from a different angle, know how to present this idea so it would be accepted.

And then what? Would it be kind to take a grown Yokai out of its environment? Would he have to take another Yokai as well so he wouldn’t be lonely? Yokai ate fire-nibbled fish so feeding him wouldn’t be a problem—but taking him back to Mountain-King and expecting everything to be all right? At best he’d have to hope that one of the more morbid scare-you stories were true, and that Obake would kill Mountain-King from the inside-out when he swallowed the Yokai.

Granted, killing Mountain-King would solve a _lot_ of problems, but at the same time he didn’t see that as a way to get the dragons to accept Obake—just a new reason to fear him. _The Yokai killed our alpha now what we could be next EVERYONE RUN!_ And that was with hoping they didn’t just decide to kill him—most dragons figured that an individual predator wasn’t _too_ too dangerous; a dragon could take on an individual predator on their own, almost always outweighing them and possessing more natural weapons, and a convenient escape route if things got too dicey. They would see Obake as an easy kill.

And from what he had seen, Obake was anything but.

“Now what?” Obake asked, looking over at Hiro flopping down and sighing.

 _“So I may have just realized that my big plan has more holes in it than a teething log,”_ Hiro said—not that Obake would understand him. _“I can’t just leave you here, but I don’t think I can take you with me, and I can’t stay here—I need a better idea.”_

Obake arched an eyeridge, groom-nibbled along Hiro’s spine with those clever paws—ah, that felt good. Didn’t address any of his problems, but it felt good.

So he still had problems—he’d get to them. There was still no hurry right now, his wing was still healing— _would_ heal, which was _GREAT._ And then he’d have to build up his wings again so he could make that flight…it would take time, but he had time.

He’d think of something.

Obake was quite pleased with Hiro’s progress, all things considered.

It had been a month now, and Hiro’s wing seemed to be healing quite fine, and the dragon seemed to be growing on top of that—dusty black scales were starting to be shed for glossy ones, and his torso was filling out enough that Obake could no longer count his ribs (thirty-seven total, if you were interested).

“You’re getting weighty,” he pointed out one day, lifting Hiro’s front a little—and causing Hiro to give him a startled look. “Am I going to have to cut back on your fish? I don’t want you getting fat.”

Hiro huffed, batted at his hand when he teased one of those nubs, accepted the scratches to his neck and eventually rolled to his back for belly rubs. Definitely filled out, couldn’t even see the keel bone that had been so prominent on him. Trace that bone thoughtfully, causing Hiro to shiver and flip back to his feet—

Give him a confused look.

“You were underfed,” Obake said thoughtfully, arms crossed as he looked the little dragon up and down. “Why? How? You obviously know how to feed yourself,” he said, thinking back to the dragon blasting the pond that first day. “And you have all the fish you could ever want in the ocean.” Perhaps not around Yokai, where _everything_ had been overhunted—

For that matter, why bother raiding Yokai? If dragons were after food, then why bother with here? There had to be lower-risk targets that yielded a higher reward—were they still attacking here because they had when it was still a thriving village instead of a mercenary camp? But why persist? Why continue when it became clear that there wasn’t enough food to warrant going head-to-head with vicious Yokai?

It was the sort of problem he loved to shred to bits and examine from every angle, but the more he did the less he saw—Yokai and its surrounding islands were called the Ghost Archipelago thanks to their marauding ways, no resources or other villages within miles of them. You would _think_ , that with resources so severely depleted the dragons would move on.

Better yet: Hiro and the other dragons seemed to prefer fish over any other sort of food, and with a whole ocean to tap…why bother with Yokai? Hiro didn’t seem to care for fish treated the way they did, so that wasn’t it…and with how many dragons they lost to the Yokai per raid…it didn’t make any sense.

“Hrr?” Hiro noised, pawing at his elbow and redirecting his attention.

“I’m having a thought,” he told the little Fury. “That added all together, examined from multiple angles, and considered carefully, you dragons have no reason to even _bother_ with this island.”

Hiro nodded thoughtfully, sat down with nubs and ear flaps out.

“Sometimes I wish you could talk,” he told the little dragon. “In a way _I_ can understand,” he added, when the dragon huffed at him. “I’m at the point where I’m certain that for you to persist in an idiotic behavior, then there must be a reason backing it. What that is, however, I can’t fathom.”

Hiro tapped his claws against his snout, crumpled up in thought, not quite as shocking now as when he first imitated the motion Obake knew he himself made—dashed off, came back with a stick, smoothed out a spot of sand before scratching several lines in it.

Several lines which, if you were being generous, seemed to outline an island, dragons flying to it….

And something huge egging those dragons on.

“So you’re either being _chased_ by something, or something is _ordering_ you to attack here,” he guessed—which did not clear anything up _at all_. Couldn’t be chased, they wouldn’t stop here and then fly back the way they came.

So something was ordering them to attack.

Think, consider—froze as that concept sank in. Yes, he could understand that, understand it completely. Because what were the Yokai but mindless monsters at this point, egged on by a horrendous leader? They had become as bad as the things they fought.

“Hrrf?” Hiro noised, looking up at his snort.

“Something called _dramatic irony_ ,” he told the dragon. “I doubt you’d understand.”

Hiro tipped his head, looked at his drawing, back at Obake—maneuvered the stick around so he could poke Obake before tapping the drawing of that huge monster, looking back at Obake hopefully.

“I would hope that wasn’t drawn to scale, firstly,” Obake told him. “Secondly, we’ve been hunting for your nest for _years_ —at this point only a dragon could—”

Hiro chirped in confusion at his abrupt pause, the way he was reevaluating Hiro. He wouldn’t do it for Callaghan, no….

Although honestly, he couldn’t see a reason to go forth and slay that monstrous beast. It was causing its subjects to suicide on Yokai, yes, and if he killed it somehow they would leave Yokai alone and….

And with no dragon raids, the Yokai could turn their attention on the wider world.

“Why couldn’t you have come with this information twenty years earlier,” he sighed, sagging. He had no motivation to save this place, that had ended up being a prison for him. The place it had been before…well, he had very little reason to save it then, either. Everyone—well, _almost_ everyone viewed him as _that cursed child_ , would have probably killed him for working some sort of quote-unquote ‘magic’ on a dragon to get it to be friendly. He would have done it hoping he could come flying back with arms spread wide to receive the adulation that would _not_ have been heaped upon him…hoping to impress _her_.

“Hrrf?” Hiro noised, pawing at his elbow again and alerting him to the fact that his attention had drifted once more.

“Sorry,” he told the little dragon. “Just entertaining the notion of how things might have been.” If he had killed the dragon alpha back then the raids would have stopped, they would have had no reason to kill dragons, the tribe wouldn’t have split. He would have most likely still been miserable, but he wouldn’t have been kicking himself for making the wrong decision twenty years later.

He probably would have left by now.

Hiro was pawing at his arm again.

“Do dragons have a sense of time?” he asked idly, scratching Hiro behind the ear flaps. “Of the past, of things that could have been? You’re intelligent enough, but dragon life seems infinitely simpler than human life—what use would you have to ponder what might have been?”

Hiro’s expression was sad as he put a paw on Obake’s knee, pressed in close, rubbing his head against Obake’s vest. Yes, that was about his feeling on the matter too.

Shake his head—there was no point dwelling on the past. It was gone, there was no changing it.

But that didn’t mean he had to continue living with the consequences—he had a chance now, a real chance….

And he would take it or die trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In other news, human bones take about four to six weeks to heal—dragon bones…hmm. Also minor reference to some activity up north and discussions on whether or not it’s ethical to leave Yokai to their own devices once trained. ;)
> 
> Also trying to figure out how many ribs a dog or lizard would have to get a general idea _internet searches have failed me on this._ And then just now looked it up and got it what is with these search engines. So…did more than the projected twenty-seven but less than what I had originally written, forty-seven, to account for the longer torso of a Night Fury. Someone who majors in speculative biology, please help. Keel bones are triangular bones that act as the sternum for birds and is where the flight muscles attach, so those make sense on a dragon. Bats and pterosaurs also have them, so yes these make sense on something flighted.


	32. Training Terrors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 32, everybody! Wow, last time I updated this the series was still active. *bricked*
> 
> Yeah, BH6: the Series got the axe—if you too feel salty about it please contact Disney corporate and give them all the salt, every person that writes in represents fifteen that couldn’t be bothered, give them grief.
> 
> Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney
> 
> How To Train Your Dragon © 2010 DreamWorks
> 
> Atlantis: The Lost Empire © 2001 Disney

Obake was actually very impressed with the Terrors’ progress thus far.

Sure, they didn’t really have a grasp on the runes beyond _fish_ , but they followed along on the tricks and could obey orders fairly well. And with the Nadder’s fire being strong enough to melt metal….

The beginnings of an idea were starting to form.

But first, he had to get the main part of it addressed—that was, see if he couldn’t teach a bunch of Terrors how to unlock a door.

The locks were easy to sneak up, simply bag them and go. A latch for them to practice slipping the lock out of? Not so much. The door itself so they would know what they were looking at? Forget about it.

But a few days later he hit on the way to achieve this—bring the door up in pieces, assemble in the cavern. He had the one cavern far enough along that he had the equivalent of a forge, could do some blacksmithing in there…and he had the hottest fire available in the shape of the recalcitrant Nadder.

Said Nadder was the source of further delays, but eventually he had a door assembled and shoved into the one tunnel that went in and then angled down. Perfect.

“Step one of babyproofing the cavern,” he said to Hiro, amused. “Now I think we can start addressing the plan.”

The plan was this: spend the next couple of days showing the Terrors how to use the little hidden latches he included in everything to unlock the doors, then teach them how to handle them in relation to the doors. It took a lot of fish before a satisfactory number of Terrors knew how to pull this off.

After that, it was a matter of working with the Nadder, who was slowly warming up to him but would still shoot a quick glance at the Gronkle or Hiro whenever he moved.

Explaining the plan to Hiro might work better.

“The roof of the kill ring’s holdings is metal, which won’t have held up in the weather and salt air,” he informed the little Night Fury. “A sneeze could take it out, but we’re having Narcissus there do the job for us. The Terrors can unlock the locks, and then good for you, you get what you wanted! Free dragons.” Which was also what _he_ wanted, somewhat, considering that meant fresh test subjects. “What do you say?”

Hiro’s excited hooting and bounding around told him that was a well-received plan indeed.

Hiro was over the moon when he told the other dragons.

_“We’ll finally be able to get all the dragons out of that kill ring!”_ he declared happily, forcing himself to think of the positive and not all the dragons killed as they puzzled this out, or the ones who had been captured freshly. _“All we have to do is carry out the plan.”_

_“Is this safe?”_ Gleam-Scale asked.

_“Is anything worth doing safe?”_ Hiro countered. _“Trust me, this is going to be awesome.”_

And as such, Hiro outlined to them what Obake had outlined to him. The Terrors redoubled their efforts, requiring Obake to camp out at the metal blocking the one tunnel so he could relock the heavy paddock after every try. Fish was quickly exhausted here.

Gleam-Scale, meanwhile, was busy in a different cavern, practicing on burning one spot with as intense a fire as he could, before practicing using it in a circle. Hiro joined him one day, watching carefully.

_“I don’t like this,”_ Gleam-Scale huffed. _“I use up all my firepower before being able to make a hole big enough for most dragons.”_

Hiro made a pensive noise at that, considering. It wasn’t like they could pump Gleam-Scale with more fire—they needed a smarter approach.

_“We could…wait,”_ Hiro noised, recalling how Obake had tapped pieces of metal together, how some he had bent from the force of his own body. If a scrawny Yokai could do that—

_“You don’t need to make the whole circle,”_ Hiro counseled. “ _Just enough that you can stomp it the rest of the way. Easy!”_ Gleam-Scale still looked down. _“What’s the matter?”_

The Nadder shrugged, shook himself. _“I don’t know—it’s just—we’re dragons, and here we are following orders from a Yokai, hiding from our own flockmates in a cave.”_

_“Hey, it’s not that dire,”_ Hiro tried. _“We know what we’re doing, and we’re trying our best. That’s all we can do, right?”_

_“Yes, but….”_ Sigh. _“I wish I could do more.”_

_“Hey, you’re doing AWESOME,”_ Hiro insisted. _“You know what would make you feel better? Fish in your belly. Come on.”_

Gleam-Scale followed him out, around Obake and the Terrors still working that _door_ over, into the lived-in cavern to nose about for neglected fish. No such luck.

_“Guess we have to wait for Boulders-on-Hill to come back,”_ Hiro sighed, sitting down. _“So what’s really bothering you?”_

Gleam-Scale huffed, sat down as well, staring at a pebble like it would suddenly start sharing the secret to full bellies and safe eggs.

_“I want to like it here,”_ he admitted finally. _“It’s just….”_

Hiro could guess. _“Obake.”_

Gleam-Scale nodded. _“Everything I learned said Yokai are bad news. And yet here one is, doing its best to make dragons happy. Why?”_

Hiro scratched at his neck, loosening several scales to clatter on the rock. _“I don’t know—maybe it’s just Obake that has that effect on dragons, I don’t know. What I do know is, I like it a lot better here than I did at our nest.”_ Being far away from Mountain-King was always going to be a bonus.

Gleam-Scale nodded. _“Yeah, I get that, but…is a full belly really worth the stress?”_

_“Is Obake stressing you that badly?”_

_“Yes…yes. Maybe. I don’t know. It feels like I swallowed an eel.”_

Urgh. But maybe he was closer to the answer?

_“Mrph—lunch,”_ Boulders-on-Hill announced, depositing a big mouthful on the floor. _“And be careful, there’s water-travelers going round again.”_

_“Ick,”_ Hiro noised, already resigning himself to the thought of dried fish. _So gross._

_“Yeah,”_ Boulders-on-Hill said, pawing a fish back to her. _“So eat these before the Terrors get back in here.”_

_“They’re busy with Obake.”_

_“Ah right, the plan.”_ Look at Gleam-Scale. _“How you feeling?”_

_“Weird,”_ Gleam-Scale told her.

_“He’s got problems with the plan,”_ Hiro reported.

_“Why? It’s a good plan,”_ Boulders-on-Hill said.

_“I think it’s the part where Obake’s involved.”_

_“Oh. Him,”_ she said, waving a paw.

_“I just feel kind of odd about all this, okay?”_ Gleam-Scale said defensively. _“It’s been days, maybe a couple of weeks, but it still feels odd. Like…like my scales are wanting to crawl off. Something’s missing, and I don’t know what it is.”_

Boulders-on-Hill seemed pensive.

_“What’s missing is a queen roaring in your head all day,”_ she said finally. _“Obake…I don’t think he has that power. We’re just used to doing what we’re told. But at the same time…I think the thing that’s scaring you is free will.”_

They stared at her over that, processing—was that really all there was to it? Hiro had free will, definitely, had it before—

Except when Mountain-King gave an order. Except when the alternative was death.

Maybe she was right.

_“I’m not sure how I feel about that,”_ Gleam-Scale muttered.

_“Then don’t be,”_ she assured him. _“Take a while to debate on it. You’ve got that luxury now.”_

That one _did_ make Hiro stop. When did reflecting on one’s own life become a luxury?

It definitely made him certain that he was doing the right thing.

Obake finally came staggering in, looking exhausted and flanked by several Terrors.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a smart idea,” he groaned, collapsing onto his nest.

_“What did you do?”_ Hiro demanded of the Terrors.

_“He was showing us how to do a thing in exchange for fish, and then he ran out of fish,”_ one Terror said.

Hiro sighed, shook his head, went over to Obake. _“Are you okay?”_ he asked, poking him with a paw.

“I went and made another typical Obake scheme,” Obake muttered into the soft nesting material. “Simple on the outside, too many moving parts on the inside.”

Hiro had no idea what that meant, so he settled for settling down next to him, shortly joined by several of the Terrors. Felt him drift to sleep—

Joined him shortly after.

Momakase had been given way too much time to think lately.

Finding the little reflective balls, the odd behavior, the various traps….

She wasn’t ready to admit that Helga had a point.

Because unfortunately, that point meant that they were looking at a major upheaval in the Yokai hierarchy. People were going to die, it was going to be messy, and there most likely wouldn’t be very many left standing at the end. They were a vicious band of mercenaries held together by the sheer force of Callaghan’s demands—once he fell, that was the end of it.

Viewed like that, it made sense that Helga wanted to split and get out of dodge.

But at the same time Momakase was left wondering what it was she planned on doing once she left. It wasn’t like they could just ditch the coats and go on—the tribe had garnered too fierce a reputation, meaning the only ones who’d take them in would be equally bloodthirsty tribes, such as the Berserkers.

And then what about herself—what about Momakase, who had been pressganged into service but embraced the lifestyle with open arms, who had been pressganged into this resistance and would be forced to leave the island, most likely. Whatever they were planning on doing in that nebulous someday of escape, would that lifestyle suit her?

Doubtful—she had been too full of rage without a potent outlet when she joined the Yokai, was given what she needed by them. This little resistance would be wanting to put that behind them, and she wasn’t ready to lay down her swords just yet.

If she ever would be was an entirely different story.

It wasn’t like there was much traction yet—they had gotten a few more people and Carl’s boat connections were happy to provide ships, were sailing about the island looking for a place to hide several, turning the meetings into debates on how many ships to use and how full to pack it and how many people to a boat after all they’d need to sail…someone had been ‘nice’ enough to recall that Momakase was a fine sailor. Unfortunately.

So now here she was, pressganged into a rebellion she wasn’t interested in and signed up for sailing a ship in an escape she wasn’t on board with. She could handle herself when the dragons hit the party, she thought. Certainly didn’t need to turn tail and run.

Besides, the upset would give her a chance to target a few jerks who had it coming. Specifically little pink-haired ones.

Okay, she thought, rapping her heel on the shingle of the roof she was sitting on. Be fair—think objectively. Say for one minute you were interested in this revolution. What part catches your eye.

Not dealing with Callaghan anymore was definitely a bonus. Losing Obake was not, she liked his schemes when it came to raiding. Losing out on raids was another issue, the escapees wouldn’t be interested in those. Would probably still have to worry about someone stabbing her in the back.

In all, not enough compelling reasons to leave.

But she would _love_ to see Callaghan gone permanently. And knowing Obake, if he made his move it would be impressive, something he had planned out and executed to perfection. Possibly he was working on it right now, wherever he was hiding. And if it was suitably impressive enough, he wouldn’t be at risk of being killed off.

Scowl, pull out a knife to sharpen. The flaws with these plans were that they relied heavily on other people’s actions. She needed something _she_ could control, where her own strength and cleverness were enough to get her out of a jam.

She couldn’t do that with the unpredictable variables known as _people_ involved.

Sigh, close her eyes for a moment, try to center herself…think. Be calm. It wasn’t a problem right now. Yes, it was going to be a problem in the future, but don’t give yourself gray hairs over it now. Just think—what can you do _now?_

Try to avoid these meetings, firstly. Maybe take a page out of Obake’s book and make herself scarce for a while. People were starting to think she was approachable, and she was most definitely _not_.

None of the Yokai were, not really—not even to each other.

_You should always have at least one other person you can trust to have your back._

Scowl at that memory, sheathe her knife and pull another one out. Yeah, that pearl of wisdom had worked really well for the person who had given it to her.

Sigh, sagging…that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he had been the object lesson to drive it home to her: you couldn’t trust people. People were lying backstabbers by nature.

Maybe that was her problem with this little resistance: she didn’t trust them. Granted, she doubted any of them would happily out the rest to Yama or Sparkle, but there was still that annoying little voice in the back of her head reminding her that other people were dangerous. Even Obake— _especially_ Obake, the man who happily led people into traps and made them think it was _their_ idea.

So. She was trapped in a relationship with people she didn’t trust. Trying to worm her way out would end badly.

So she wouldn’t. She’d ride along with this now, see where it led…jump ship when it became clear it was no longer profitable for her.

And if it ended in killing, well…she’d happy send her knives into the mix if she had to.

She doubted she could be that lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to the story…yes Obake named that Nadder Narcissus the man couldn’t resist. XD
> 
> Also all the planning and plotting going on—how will this turn out? Good question….
> 
> And why is Momakase a fine sailor? Well…working on this fic series one day and my mind went “Momakase = pirate” and I went _seems legit._ XD

**Author's Note:**

> Let’s be honest, this comes from two reasons beyond “It’s been simmering in my head and won’t leave me alone”: one, I haven’t seen a BH6/HTTYD crossover that quite scratches this itch, and two…I love Obake, okay? To the point that the episode “Countdown to Catastrophe” was heartbreaking and not in the way the writers probably wanted. T-T
> 
> So for the foreseeable future we’ll be updating this every other Thursday—I’m wanting to finish up The Things We Do For Science over on FFN, so hopefully we’ll be seeing that one on the other Thursday. Wish me luck, because I have some writing to do. :D
> 
> Also, forgive me, but the dragons are going to have strange names for a while. But I'm sure you can guess who's who. ;D


End file.
